


The Cooking Cowboy, with Jesse McCree

by SadakoTetsuwan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Anxiety, But also cares about his big brother, Cooking, Cooking Lessons, Ethnic dishes galore, Fluff, Food, Foot Massage, Genji is a Little Shit, Hanzo is crushing hard, Introvert Hanzo, Jesse is crushing hard too, Lots and lots of cooking, M/M, Massage, Meditation, Minor YouTube Celebrity McCree, More like baked to perfection, Mutual Masturbation, Office potluck, Orgasm, Recipes, Relaxation, Satya is a freaking detective, Secondhand embarrassment, Shopping Trip, Slow Burn, The local Cooking Cowboy fanclub, YouTube, background Gency, background r76, e-mail chain, law office shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:51:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 79,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9468143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadakoTetsuwan/pseuds/SadakoTetsuwan
Summary: It had started simple—he just needed a good recipe for matcha cake to surprise Genji on his birthday, and so he’d started clicking around for tutorials on YouTube.But now Hanzo is in deep, and is officially part of ‘The Chuckwagon’; the mostly middle-aged, mostly female fan following of YouTube cooking sensation Jesse McCree, the Cooking Cowboy.How had his life come to this?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank the McHanzo Discord for planting this idea in the safe, non-angsty corner of my brain a while ago! The idea was driving me crazy and I had to write it.
> 
> Like any good cooking series, check the end notes for the recipes featured in each chapter! Some of these recipes come from my own kitchen, and others will have links to the original page where they were found.

Hanzo couldn’t say what made him click on this particular video. Maybe it was the gorgeous thumbnail shot, maybe it was the large view count. Maybe it was curiosity at what a channel called ‘CookingCowboy’ could possibly do when it came to matcha cake. He settled back in his recliner with a cup of tea, his laptop perched on top of the latest copy of a contract that he was supremely disinterested in translating.

Like one would expect from any cooking show, it started in a kitchen—specifically, at a small breakfast bar.

“Alright, now a month back, I asked y’all to send me recipes you thought would stump me. And hoo boy, did y’all come through!” The video cut away to a title card—‘The Cooking Cowboy, with Jesse McCree’, with suitably twangy guitar music.

“Now, lotta my followers an’ fans know that I’m worse at bakin’ than a one-legged rodeo clown, so I got me a whole heapin’ bushel o’ dessert recipes—why d’ y’all want me to get fat?” The man grinned roguishly and winked at the camera.

“So I figured I’d fish out a recipe that’s sweet _an’_ healthy to boot. Can’t have y’all feelin’ guilty over dessert now! Today, we’ll be kickin’ off the Chuckwagon Challenge Month by makin’ a matcha cake roll with strawberry mousse. Sounds good, right? Let’s get started!” The video cut to an absolutely delectable looking roll cake with pale pink crème filling; it made Hanzo feel inexplicably homesick.

“Matcha-flavored sweets are real popular in Japan, ‘cause the bitter taste of the green tea contrasts with and pairs well with the sweetness of a lot of spring fruits. You can get matcha cakes, matcha ice cream, matcha candies, even matcha frappucinos and milkshakes! Daggum, makes me wanna hop on the first plane t’ Tokyo! An’ to top it off, matcha’s got a ton of health benefits, too—one cup of matcha’s got ten times the nutrients, antioxidants an’ amino acids as one cup of regular ol’ green tea. But it’s pretty bitter on it’s own—better to put it in sweets!”

One thing was certain, Hanzo thought as watched, transfixed, the production value on these videos was quite high. And the host was unreasonably handsome—so two things were certain. Fine. The video stopped showing delectable flybys of the cake and transitioned smoothly to a gorgeous, if rustic looking kitchen.

“Now, to make this nice sponge, we’re gonna need a cup o’ cake flour, two tablespoons of matcha—be sure ya get the good stuff, it’s a little pricey, I know, but your body will thank y’ when yer pocketbook won’t—teaspoon of bakin’ powder, a quarter teaspoon of sea salt, jes’ a tiiiiny bit, five eggs, three quarters cup sugar, an’ a quarter cup o’ whole milk. Check the recipe in the description box, unless you jes’ like rewindin’ the video over an’ over again an’ watchin’ me say numbers all day,” McCree winked.

Watching Jesse McCree cook was mesmerizing. His casual banter with the camera was so relaxed and poised—not a single awkward pause. He whisked, he whipped, he poured, he baked, he bloomed gelatin and pureed strawberries and folded cream and carried on all the while, as if he were an old friend with whoever was watching. Hanzo glanced down at the view count—over 200,000. Impressive…

“Alright, now that we’ve got our sponge cooled off an’ our mousse is ready, it’s time t’ put ‘em all together. Now, I got these big ol’ meaty hands, so I ain’t so great with puttin frostin’ an’ such on cakes, but I’m gonna give it my best shot—don’t be afraid if’n it ain’t picture perfect, ‘cause it’ll still taste good either way,” he smiled, carefully spreading the pale pink strawberry mousse across the sponge. It’s true—his application wasn’t the prettiest, but he still got a fairly even layer. “Y’all can take yer time with this, ain’t no rush. ‘Sides, the longer yer cookin’, the more calories yer burnin’, right? Haha, s’what I tell myself every time,” he winked, licking the spatula. “Makes me feel a little less guilty, anyway.

“Now, we gotta roll it up real careful-like. I like t’ use a sushi mat anytime I gotta roll somethin’, keeps you from breakin’ the sponge or gettin’ yer fingers covered in mousse. Jes’ roll it on up,” he said, working as if he had been born making cake rolls, “An’ make sure the end goes on the bottom, so y’ don’t end up with an unrolled cake. Ain’t quite the effect we’re aimin’ fer. Now, wrap it up nice an’ snug with some plastic wrap, an’ we’re gonna put this little dogie in the fridge fer ‘bout half an hour, so the mousse sets.”

He walked the plate over to his enormous fridge, popping one plate in and pulling another out. “Here’s one I made earlier with my camerawoman, producer, tech guru an’ all-around cheerleader, Hana,” he smiled, winking and pointing a finger gun slightly off camera. “Wave t’ the folks at home, darlin’,” he said, and a hand with neon pink fingernails waved in front of the lens for a moment. “She’s got way steadier hands than me when it comes t’ frostin’ things, which is why this here matcha cake looks so gosh darn purdy,” he smiled, pulling the plastic wrap off and revealing the pre-made cake. It did look quite nice—it reminded Hanzo of the sort of cakes he’d see in pâtisserie windows back home.

“Now y’ jes’ slice it up, say, maybe two centimeters wide, like so,” he said, slicing the cake with precision and care, “An’ there ya have it, ladies an’ gentlemen! Matcha roll cake with strawberry mousse. The perfect treat fer a spring day—an’ a perfect reward fer _me_ fer bakin’ something!” he grinned, cutting into the slice with the edge of his fork and taking his first bite. The way his whole body reacted to the flavor was perhaps a little theatrical, but the way he tipped his head back and moaned made Hanzo’s mouth go a bit dry.

The video cut again to the front porch, presumably; McCree relaxed in a rocking chair, a tall glass of iced tea next to him and a plate of matcha cake slices in hand, already half-eaten.

“If’n y’ liked this recipe an’ wanna see more like it, check out these videos here an’ here,” he said, pointing to the corners of the screen with his fork where links obediently appeared. “Wanna keep up with the Chuckwagon Challenge Month? Can’t get enough o’ my beard? Pop on down t’ that subscribe button, an’ come on back on Tuesdays, Thursdays an’ Saturdays fer more Cooking Cowboy. If ya got a recipe y’ think I might enjoy, or a request t’ have me hunt down somethin’ special for y’all, go ‘head an’ shoot an e-mail my way. ‘Til next time, I’m Jesse McCree, yer Cooking Cowboy,” he signed off with a wink.

Hanzo had no need for a recipe for buttercream frosting, but he still watched his ‘Buttercream Bonanza’ video, then continued on to homemade ice cream, banana bread, ‘Blue Ribbon Hamburger Recipe’, ‘Cooking Cowboy’s Sushi Fail!’—admittedly hilarious—‘Five Tips for Improving Your BBQ’, ‘Not Your Mama’s Mother Sauces’…

Hanzo glanced down at the clock with a start. How had an hour and a half already gone by?

…How had he not subscribed yet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matcha Roll Cake with Strawberry Mousse
> 
> http://www.thelittleepicurean.com/2014/03/matcha-green-tea-swiss-roll-strawberry-mousse.html
> 
> **INGREDIENTS:**
> 
> **Matcha Green Tea Cake:**
> 
> 1 cup (112 g) cake flour  
> 2 Tbsp (14 g) matcha powder  
> 1 tsp baking powder  
> 1/4 tsp fine sea salt  
> 5 large eggs, separated  
> 3/4 cup (156 g) granulated sugar  
> 1/4 cup whole milk
> 
> **Strawberry Mousse:**
> 
> 1 2/3 cup strawberry puree  
> 1/2 gelatin sheet, bloomed  
> 1/3-1/2 cup (63 g- 104 g) granulated sugar, depending on sweetness of strawberries  
> 2 cups heavy cream, chilled
> 
> **DIRECTIONS:**
> 
> Matcha Green Tea Cake:
> 
>   1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Line jelly roll baking sheet with parchment paper or silpat mat. Set aside.
>   2. In a small bowl, whisk together cake flour, matcha powder, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.
>   3. In a large bowl, whisk together egg yolks, granulated sugar, and milk until pale in color.
>   4. In another clean bowl, whip egg white to medium-stiff peaks.
>   5. Add dry flour mixture to yolk mixture. Fold to combine. Add whipped eggs in three additions. Gently fold to incorporate egg whites.
>   6. Pour batter to prepared baking sheet. Use an offset spatula to spread batter into an even layer. Bake for 8-10 minutes until cake springs back to touch. Remove from oven and run a mini offset spatula around the edges of the pan to loosen cake.
>   7. Invert cake into a clean kitchen towel. Slowly and gently remove parchment (or silpat) from cake.
>   8. Use the kitchen towel to roll cake into a log. Let the cake rest on a wire rack to cool to room temperature.
>   9. Once cake is cool, unroll the cake and remove the kitchen towel. Add a generous amount of strawberry mousse filing. Use an offset spatula to spread filling to an even layer.
>   10. Use your hands to gently roll the cake back into a log. Place the seam at the bottom of the cake to prevent it from unraveling. Cover log with plastic wrap and let chill in the fridge for at least 30 minutes to allow mousse to set up.
> 

> 
> Strawberry Mousse:
> 
>   1. In a clean bowl, mix together strawberry puree and sugar. Adjust the amount of sugar depending on the sweetness of your strawberries. Take about 1/4 cup of strawberry mixture and place in separate bowl. You will use this for the gelatin.
>   2. Fill a small bowl of ice cold water to bloom gelatin for about 3 minutes. Squeeze out excess water from gelatin. Place soft gelatin sheets into bowl of reserved strawberry mixture. Microwave mixture 10 seconds at a time until gelatin has melted. Pour mixture into the rest of the strawberry puree. Set aside. Allow mixture to sit and come back to room temperature.
>   3. In another bowl, whip chilled heavy cream to medium peaks. Add whipped cream to cooled strawberry mixture in three additions. Gently fold cream into mixture.
> 



	2. Chapter 2

Hanzo came home with way more ingredients than he had originally planned.

He had cake flour and a dozen fresh eggs, and strawberries and gelatin and cream, yes, but he’d also picked up paprika, chili powder, Worchestershire sauce, chives, lemons, thyme, rosemary, parsley, butter, powdered sugar, garlic, olive oil, soy sauce, tahini, honey, lean ground beef, eggplant, pita chips—the cashier must have though he was crazy, or at least supremely indecisive.

Maybe he was. After all, matcha roll cakes, hamburgers, and whatever baba ghanoush was supposed to be didn’t seem to go together in his mind, either. But that last video he’d watched, where his neighbor over the fence shared her family recipe from the old country, was absolutely precious—he just had to try it, whatever it actually was.

He had plenty of time to make Genji’s present before that weekend, after all, he could indulge himself first, right?

He put away his mish-mash of ingredients before pulling out what he remembered from the video, before queuing it up again: ‘Baba Ghanoush feat. Miss Ana the Friendly Neighbor’.

“So every now an’ then, ya gotta break out an’ try somethin’ new an’ different, right? How different from my home-style country cookin’ is _this_?” McCree asked, holding up a plate of some sort of puree, topped with olive oil and lemon and green parsley with wedges of pita decorating the edge. His usual title card popped up, although the twangy guitar music was replaced with drums and a languid reeded flute over Middle Eastern strings.

Try something new, something different. Hanzo was definitely doing that—he wasn’t one to branch out from his usual list of recipes, but this oddly handsome cowboy tackled something new three times a week. Why couldn’t he?

“Now y’all might’ve noticed this ain’t my kitchen,” McCree remarked. Indeed, it was a sunny yellow with potted plants lined up along the window sill. “Today, I’m a guest in my neighbor’s kitchen, Miss Ana Amari.”

“Hello there!” a cheerful old woman waved, the wrinkles in her face deepening with her smile. A shock of silvery white hair covered her right eye, but an eyepatch was still visible underneath it.

“Miss Ana here’s got a garden t’ rival mine, an’ we trade veggies an’ herbs all the time, but we’ve finally started tradin’ recipes,” McCree smiled. “So Miss Ana, what’re we makin’ today?”

“We’re making Egyptian baba ghanoush,” she began, “In other countries, it’s called mutabbal, and in those countries baba ghanoush has extra ingredients, but if you go to a Levantine restaurant here in America, you’ll probably find mutabbal called baba ghanoush, and it’s, just, a whole thing,” she said, waving her hands in slight exasperation. “So! I’ll show you how to make Egyptian baba ghanoush, and give you tips on how to modify this recipe to make all sorts of related Middle Eastern appetizers.”

“We’re gonna see if’n I can make me a Southwestern baba ghanoush,” McCree grinned, leaning into the frame. “What’re we gonna need?”

“To start, you need a nice big eggplant,” Ana said, holding up two unusually large eggplants. “This was the biggest one in my garden today, so I’ll be using this one.”

“I ain’t never got big’uns like that,” McCree pouted, accepting his slightly smaller eggplant.

Hanzo glanced down at his eggplant. It was modestly sized, since he only had to make enough of this dish for one. Still, he was confident he wouldn’t have to half the recipe, regardless of eggplant size.

“You’ll also need tahini. This is what makes something either baba ghanoush or mutabbal—so if you put it in, it’s mutabbal, if you leave it out, then it’s probably baba ghanoush. Unless you’re in Egypt,” she added.

“From there, you’ll need lemon—you can use bottled lemon juice, but I like mine freshly squeezed—garlic, salt, chili powder or red pepper, for that little extra kick, and olive oil. That’s for the most basic mutabbal, but it’s a good start.”

Hanzo paused the video and double-double-checked his ingredients against the text recipe in the description box. He wasn’t sure why he was taking this so seriously. It wasn’t like anything was really on the line, and if it turned out poorly, he would still have time to make one of his more typical meals.

“Your most important ingredient is your eggplant. You want to roast it to make it smoky and rich, so take your eggplant, and prick it with a fork,” Ana directed, poking holes in the skin. Hanzo followed along, poking dozens of tiny holes in the dark skin.

“Y’know, I been meanin’ t’ ask, and this is pro’lly a dangerous moment, but how’d you get that eyepatch?” McCree asked, pricking his eggplant carefully.

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Ana smirked. “Wait—can I say that on camera?”

“Woman with a block o’ knives like that next to ‘er, you can say whatever you want, ma’am,” McCree laughed, turning and whispering ‘help me’ to the camera. Hanzo couldn’t explain why such a silly moment made his heart flutter.

“Once you’ve got a few holes in it, you want to roast the eggplant over a fire, so what we do nowadays is just light our gas stoves, and set them right here for about 15 minutes, turning constantly,” she narrated, the video cutting to their eggplants sitting on the stove burners, happily roasting above the open flames.

“If you don’t have a gas range, you can roast it in the oven. Turn it to about 400 for 40 minutes, but be careful not to burn it while you’re charring the skin. Roasted eggplant has a wonderful, smoky taste, but burned eggplant is awful.”

“Smells like every mistake y’ ever made, but on fire,” McCree agreed, turning his eggplant.

“Like burning hair and rubber,” Ana nodded sagely as she tended hers as well.

“Like yer food’s sick to it’s stomach.”

“Anyway! After your eggplants are roasted,” Ana said, and Hanzo quickly paused the video. This was going to be the boring part—tending an eggplant on his stove for fifteen minutes. He flicked through his music app, hunting for a few songs that would last the full length—or at least near to it. He settled on the 1812 Overture; odd cooking music, for sure, but it was 15 minutes long and would serve his purpose.

He slowly turned the eggplant with a pair of tongs, humming along with the melody. It was rather relaxing, even during the more intense, stormy sections of the piece. The skin of the eggplant grew darker as it charred, then began to crack under his tongs. Hanzo carefully manipulated the fruit (he remembered reading somewhere that eggplants were actually berries, but that was even more ridiculous than the mere notion that it wasn’t a vegetable), although the notion of having to gingerly move a roasted eggplant while cannons were firing out of his phone speakers reminded him of how silly this was all becoming.

Over the course of 24 hours, he’d become obsessed with a cooking series purely on the back of it’s handsome host; a pretty face was all it had taken to get him to change his plans for the rest of the week, and here he was, roasting eggplants to make a dish he couldn’t spell if he tried.

Once the required 15 minutes had passed, he switched back to the video player, which helpfully jumped back a few seconds before playing again.

“Anyway! After your eggplants are roasted,” Ana said, the video cutting back to the two of them at the kitchen island with their blackened, cracking eggplants, “Peel them, or slice them open and remove the pulp. Put it all in a pot or bowl, whatever is easier to blend and mix in for you. I like to use a pot, it’s easier for me to hold.”

“Alrighty, I’ll take the bowl,” McCree grinned, carefully peeling away his eggplant skin and dumping the roasted pulp into his bowl. Hanzo followed suit, scraping the inside of the crackly charred eggplant into a glass mixing bowl. Already, it was nothing like the _nasu dengaku_ he’d grown up eating in the summertime…but he was committed now, there was no turning back on this recipe.

“Then we mash it up a bit, and add in our tahini, and our garlic, sprinkle in the salt, and the olive oil… and squeeze in about two tablespoons of lemon juice minimum—some people like more lemon, so definitely taste while you’re blending,” Ana instructed, “Same with your chili powder.”

“I’m definitely puttin’ in a lotta chili powder,” McCree remarked, glancing up at the camera, “Let’s kick this up a notch.”

“I like a bit more than my daughter, so I usually start with just a little, then add more to mine once I’ve portioned hers out,” Ana explained. “Then start blending. You might need to add a little water, but you want it to be thick,” she added, turning on her hand mixer. “So just add what you need.”

Hanzo paused the video; he didn’t want to miss their banter as he fired up his own hand mixer, blending just the basic ingredients that ‘Miss Ana’ had described. Just a pinch of chili powder for him. After a few moments of blending, he turned off the mixer and hit ‘play’ again.

“If’n yer usin’ dry tahini, you’ll need water fer sure, but if you got tahini paste, y’ might be okay. Cookin’s like marriage, it’s give an’ take.”

“You’ve never been married,” Ana chuckled.

“It’s what I hear, anyway,” McCree laughed.

“So blend until it’s nice and smooth. In some places, they leave it a little bit chunky, but I like it to be smooth like hummus. There’s no wrong way to blend your baba ghanoush,” Ana smiled. Hanzo paused again and blended some more, entertaining the fanciful thought that the three of them were truly cooking together. It was an innocent fantasy, and on that McCree made so easy with his inviting nature.

“Now, if you are going to try a different regional type, this would be where you would add yogurt for a Palestinian twist, or pomegranate juice, maybe some chickpeas or tomatoes, or cucumber for a bit of Greek flavor—cucumber in your baba ghanoush is wonderful on a hot summer day,” Ana continued. “What are you going to put in, Jesse?”

“Well, I’m thinkin’ I’ll throw in some tomato, some coriander, hit it with some onion, an’ I got some mighty fine habanero peppers from my garden. Kind of a pico meets baba ghanoush,” McCree explained. “I thought about using some o’ my famous chipotle peppers, but I thought I’d hold back on them, let the smokey eggplant be the star there.”

“Correct choice,” Ana smirked. Hanzo gave his baba ghanoush a few more pulses of the hand mixer, his dip smooth and silky. It wasn’t a particularly appealing color, but glancing back at the video confirmed that it was, unfortunately, the correct one. Perhaps, if this experiment turned out well, he could get more adventurous with the next batch, more like Jesse, mix in some of his favorite ingredients to make something less… _beige_.

The video cut away and switched to two plates of puree—one pale with a drizzle of olive oil forming a tiny moat around an island housing a dash of crushed mint and a sprig of parsley, with sprinkles of bright red chili powder standing out and a lemon wedge nestled at the edge of the plate; the other far redder, with a slightly chunkier texture and with chopped cilantro sprinkled liberally over the thick paste.

“So! If’n you done everything the traditional way, you should have a dish that looks more like this,” McCree said, gesturing to the bowl in front of Ana, accompanied by a plate of pita wedges. “Let’s dive in!” he grinned, the two of them swiping up the creamy dip and toning wordlessly to one another, smiling with their eyes.

“Mmm, that’s good,” Ana said. “Baba ghanoush tastes great fresh, or cooled in the fridge—it’s a hot day, so we probably should have cooled it off a bit.”

“Ah, ain’t no big deal—it’s still good,” McCree smiled. “Alright—moment of truth,” he said, turning to his concoction and reaching for a plate of crisp pita chips. “Let’s see if my fusion confusion worked out.”

The two swiped up a bit of his concoction and, with a moment’s hesitation, took a bite.

“Mmm! Not bad—a bit hot, though,” Ana giggled.

“Nah, it’s fine,” McCree laughed, “I like my stuff hot, after all.”

“I’ll just make sure not to give any to Fareeha,” Ana laughed, scooping up a smaller amount on her second chip.

The video cut to the two of them on McCree’s familiar front porch, their bowls of dip between them and a large bowl of pita chips flanked by two of McCree’s tall glasses of iced tea. As McCree delivered his usual outro, Hanzo decided that he couldn’t put it off any longer. He opened the bag of pita chips and scooped up some of his beige paste, closing his eyes before eating it. He wasn’t sure he could bring himself to eat something that was the color of a band-aid if he had to look at it while doing so.

The smoky flavor certainly came through, but the rest was…bland somehow. The hint of chili powder was lost, the garlic the only other flavor managing to make itself known. He frowned, looking down at his bowl of tan before pausing.

No salt.

He sighed, pulling out his little jar of sea salt and scooping out a teaspoon, dropping it in and firing up the mixer again. Maybe next he should measure everything out in tiny little bowls like McCree did, just to be certain…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Egyptian Baba Ghanoug/Mutabbal
> 
> http://www.alternativeegypt.com/Food-&-Recipes/Egyptian-baba-ganoush-recipe.html  
> http://www.kitchenofpalestine.com/mutabbal/
> 
> **INGREDIENTS**
> 
> 1 large eggplant (about 850 grams)  
> 2 cloves garlic, minced  
> 4 tablespoon tahini paste  
> 1/4 cup lemon juice  
> 1 teaspoon salt (or to taste)  
> 2 tablespoon olive oil  
> 1/2 teaspoon chili powder/red pepper flakes  
> Dried mint or parsley for garnish
> 
> **DIRECTIONS**
> 
>   1. Place the eggplant as is (without peeling) directly on the stove-top over a medium heat. Leave it roasting and keep turning from side to side until the skin is blackened and pulp is soft and tender. This process takes about 15 minutes in total.
> 

> 
> -or-
> 
>   1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (200 degrees C). Arrange oven racks so you have one low and one high in the oven.
>   2. Cut a shallow slit along the side of the eggplant and place into a baking dish.
>   3. Roast in preheated oven on the lower rack until the eggplant is completely shrunken and soft, about 40 minutes. Move dish to higher rack and continue baking until the skin is charred, about 5 minutes more. Let eggplant cool until cool enough to handle.
>   4. Peel the eggplant under running cold water in order to remove the skin easily. Trim the stem off from the eggplant and remove the seeds (if any). 
>   5. Put the eggplant in a pot. Mash it with a fork or a hammer. Add garlic, salt, tahini, lemon, and half cup of water. 
>   6. Mix all ingredients together until well combined. Taste to adjust salt and lemon.
>   7. Spread the dip in serving plate, drizzle with olive oil and garnish with a pinch of crushed dried mint. Serve warm or cold with pita or taboun bread.
> 



	3. Chapter 3

While his first baba ghanoush was underseasoned (entirely his fault, he admitted), the matcha cake was absolutely exquisite. Of course, he had to make one for himself to test the recipe, and to practice rolling the cake, and ensure he knew what ‘blooming’ gelatin was, and make sure his refrigerator worked.

But one whole cake of his own later, he still wasn’t sure. He’d better make himself another cake. For _practice_ , of course.

He counted up his remaining ingredients and pouted. Damn, he only had enough for Genji’s cake. Hanzo sighed, shaking his head. Well, Genji would probably offer him a slice, anyway…

* * *

Hanzo rang the bell to Genji’s flat, a little smile on his face. He felt a little bad about having to pass on Genji’s party, but parties were exhausting, and he’d never been a big drinker and he didn’t care for American karaoke and he didn’t know many of Genji’s friends...

Hanzo had never been as outgoing as Genji—he’d always stayed home and studied or practiced kyuudo or went to English lessons, or, if he had been feeling adventurous, he might go to a restaurant with his law study group after the library kicked them out.

Genji, however, had only mellowed slightly with age. His hair was no longer bright green, and he no longer stumbled into class 20 minutes late and hung over from the _nomihoudai_ the night before, but he’d learned to adapt to American-style karaoke and parties just as readily as Hanzo had adapted to American office culture.

At least Genji understood Hanzo’s reserved nature, and didn’t pressure him anymore.

The door swung open, Genji positively beaming. “Anija!”

“ _Otanjoubi omedetou_ ,” Hanzo smiled, holding the plate out. “I made you a cake.”

He’d taken the time to decorate the plate, a sliced strawberry fanned out on one side and a latticed drizzle of semi-sweet chocolate on the other. He’d had to balance the plate so carefully on the drive over to keep that design nice.

“Is—is that…?” Genji gasped, staring down at the cake. “Where did you find matcha cake in America?”

“I baked it,” Hanzo replied, slightly sheepish.

“Ehh?! No way!” Genji cried, laughter dancing in his eyes. “Come in, come in! Angela!” he called over his shoulder, “You have to see what my brother made!”

Hanzo toed off his shoes inside the doorway and padded in, smiling as Genji’s ‘totally not my girlfriend, alright? Don’t tell Dad I’m seeing anyone because I’m _totally_ not’ strolled in.

“Hello Hanzo,” Angela smiled, gentle and warm. “How have you been lately?”

“Ah, fine, fine,” Hanzo replied, looking down at his cake. “I’ve, ah…I’ve taken up cooking,” he added, holding the plate out for inspection.

“Ooh, that looks lovely!” Angela praised. “Is it green tea flavored?”

“Matcha and strawberry, yes,” Hanzo smiled.

“It’s my favorite,” Genji grinned, “C’mon, you have time for a slice before you have to go to work, right Angela?”

“I always have time for cake,” she giggled, having a seat at the table and watching as Genji sliced the roll cake extra thick. The sponge cake had just the right amount of give, and the chilled creme held together as the knife slid through. Genji could barely resist long enough to plate up slices for the others before finally digging in.

“ _Umai!_ ” Genji cried, the very image of ecstasy. “Hanzo, where did you get this recipe?”

“Ah, the internet,” Hanzo replied, enjoying his slice of cake with a little more restraint than his brother. “I’ve started watching a series.”

“Which one?” Angela asked, watching as another slice disappeared. “Genji,” she warned.

“It’s…ah…Th-The Cooking Cowboy,” Hanzo replied, blushing softly. It sounded even sillier, saying it out loud.

“Oh, really? I’ve seen a few of his videos on Facebook,” Angela mused. “I always wanted to give them a try, but I don’t have much time for cooking. And Genji…well…” Hanzo chuckled in response—Genji couldn’t be trusted to boil water.

“The instructions are quite clear,” Hanzo said, “I’m sure Genji could learn at least a few simple recipes…”

“Why do I need to, when you can cook?” Genji asked, green crumbs on his lips. Hanzo frowned, settling back in his chair.

“You are a grown man, Genji. Angela and I can’t cook for you forever.”

“I can’t cook like this, though,” Genji laughed, “I can be your taste tester!”

“I test my own food,” Hanzo replied, smirking. “ _I_ got to have my own cake, since I know how to cook.”

“Whaaaat?” Genji whined, pouting childishly. “That’s no fair!”

“Of course it is. And if you cooked, you could make your own cakes, too,” Hanzo chuckled.

“Perhaps I could try the recipe,” Angela smiled, wiping up a touch of strawberry crème and licking it off her finger with delight.

“I’ll send you the link,” Hanzo nodded, setting down his empty plate and settling in for a…reasonably quiet afternoon.

* * *

Hanzo had previously had a hard time not taking his work home with him on the weekends. But now that he had a hobby other than ‘keeping up on international business law’, he found himself actually relaxing.

He stood in front of his fridge, glancing back and forth between a chicken breast and ground beef, trying to decide whether to attempt another new recipe tonight, or go with his more typical dinner. He sighed softly and reached for the chicken. He still felt unprepared for trying new recipes on a whim. Tomorrow, he’d try that hamburger recipe, but for tonight, it would just be a fresh chicken salad.

At least until his phone vibrated in his pocket. Hanzo sighed, pulling it out and glancing at the ‘new video’ alert.

‘Cooking Cowboy - Sauce Saturday! Super Simple Teriyaki’

Hanzo raised a brow and tapped the link, leaning against the counter. He’d seen quite a few teriyaki recipes in his day, and almost all of them were overly complicated.

“Howdy,” McCree grinned, “Today we’ve just got a quick recipe for ya’, but it’s a good one. I don’t know ‘bout y’all, but I love me some Japanese food, but that storebought teriyaki sauce jes’ ain’t cuttin’ it,” he said, pulling a face. “Luckily, makin’ yer own is a piece o’ cake.” The title card popped up, and it occurred to Hanzo that Hana the editor had an _excellent_ sense of timing.

“Now, lotta teriyaki recipes got ya mixin’ in ginger an’ garlic an’ scallions an’ all sortsa seasonin’s, but sometimes ya jes’ want a basic sauce fer all-purpose use, somethin’ easy t’ adjust to a recipe or to taste. This one here was sent in by ManamiSatou11011, an’ after one taste, I was in love.

“So here’s what ya need—ya gotta start with soy sauce, an’ I mean the good stuff. I use koikuchi, but if’n ya got a wheat allergy, use temari. Cheap, chemical soy sauces got all sortsa byproducts in ‘em that ya don’t want in yer food, an’ it’s got a real strong, bitter flavor that don’t cook out well. Real soy sauce takes weeks t’ ferment, an’ it’s a lot more mellow ‘fore an’ after cookin’ with it. If it’s done fast, it ain’t good, and if it’s done good, it ain’t fast.

“You need mirin _and_ cookin’ sake. Mirin adds sweetness, an’ cookin’ sake balances the saltiness of the soy sauce, and the sweetness of the mirin. Then there’s jes’ one ingredient left: honey,” he added with a grin. Hanzo’s brows rose, a little smile on his lips. It _was_ simple—and familiar. It was almost exactly like his family recipe.

“Now, yer gonna kick yerself over how easy this is. You got yer four ingredients? Mix ‘em up in a 1:1:1:1 ratio, then simmer ‘til it gets real thick, like molasses. That’s it!” he cried, “You can mix it up fresh fer a dish—say 1, maybe 1 ½ tablespoons of each ingredient per person—or mix some up ahead o’ time and keep it in the fridge ‘til yer ready t’ simmer it down. Soy sauce needs t’ live somewhere cool an’ dark, so heatin’ it up over an over again ain’t great for it.”

The video cut to a gorgeous pan-seared skin-on chicken breast, the skin crisped and golden brown.

“Easiest way t’ make sure you really get it simmered down? Pour it right over what yer cookin’ an’ get yer protein niiiice and coated.” The thin sauce was poured over the chicken and almost immediately began to bubble and boil in the pan, an arm with a plaid check shirt carefully turning the chicken over and over, coating it with the slowly reducing sauce. “Jes’ be careful not to burn it—it’s a bugger to scrub off yer pan,” he said; Hanzo could _hear_ the wink in his voice. “You wanna get it nice an’ dark, but jes’ like with when we made caramel, it’s a difference of a few seconds between good thick sauce and burnt sauce. Pull it right off the heat once yer meat’s cooked, and once it’s plated, put the pan back on the heat fer a few seconds ‘til it bubbles again, then pour it out over yer plate an’ enjoy,” he narrated, demonstrating how to stop and restart the sauce cooking.

The video cut to a delicious-looking bowl of yakitori donburi, the moist slices of chicken glistening both from their own juices and the thick, shiny, chestnut brown teriyaki sauce. A few sprinkles of toasted sesame seeds and a sprig of parsley, and the camera pulled back to reveal the handsome host hovering over the bowl, grinning up at the camera.

“ _Itadakimasu!_ ” he said, his pronunciation…passable, but better than Hanzo would have expected, given McCree’s thick accent.

Hanzo chuckled, returning to the fridge. Donburi for dinner sounded better anyway.

* * *

**DragonLord89**

>Great teriyaki recipe. Very similar to how my mother taught me.  
>I always make it with half honey, half Okinawan kurozatou. It adds   
>depth to the sauce, and makes this recipe better for other meats as well.  
>I love your channel. Keep up the good work.

Hanzo hesitated before finally leaving his comment, wishing almost immediately that he could take it back. Who was he to advise someone like Jesse McCree on cooking? He made his living cooking—and he wouldn’t take McCree’s advice on the nuances of Japanese international economic policy, after all.

Still…McCree asked for recipe ideas in every video. He was inviting the advice and comments…it would probably be okay.

“He probably won’t even see it anyway, it’s the YouTube comment section,” he told himself, sighing as he closed the lid of his laptop and set it aside, turning off his bedside lamp and settling in for the night. Tomorrow would be hamburgers, and he wanted to buy fresh potatoes before trying to make his own french fries.

* * *

The ‘new e-mail’ icon was almost always sitting in Hanzo’s notification bar on his phone, and he hated seeing it hover there on weekends, especially when he was trying to sleep in. He didn’t respond to work e-mails unless it had an extraordinarily panicked subject line—he was a master call and mail screener.

One thing he wasn’t expecting was an e-mail from YouTube.

Re: Great teriyaki recipe. […]

Hanzo bit the inside of his cheek and tapped on the email, his eyes widening before he dropped his phone on his face in surprise.

**CookingCowboy**

>Oooh, that sounds good! Bet I’ll have to go to the Asian market to find  
>some, but I’ll give it a go ‘fore my next teriyaki episode drops! (:  
>Much love, darlin!  
>Jesse, XOXO

“H-he responded!” Hanzo squeaked, staring at the message for a moment before backing out to his inbox and tapping it again, as if to check and make sure he wasn’t just dreaming the message into existence.

_He responded_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homemade Teriyaki Sauce
> 
> **INGREDIENTS**
> 
> 1 tablespoon soy sauce  
>  1 tablespoon cooking sake  
>  1 tablespoon mirin  
>  1/2 tablespoon honey  
>  1/2 tablespoon black sugar (you can substitute dark brown sugar)
> 
> **DIRECTIONS**
> 
>   1. Mix all 4 ingredients together in a large bowl. Whisk together until the honey is evenly distributed throughout the mixture and the sugar has dissolved.
>   2. Tip: let the bowl sit next to the stove as you cook, so the additional heat can help the honey dissolve more.
>   3. Pour mixture into a pan over medium heat and reduce for about 10 minutes, or until the sauce has thickened. Be careful not to burn it!
>   4. If you are preparing the sauce along with your protein, pour the sauce directly onto your protein as it cooks in the pan, turning and coating the protein thoroughly as the sauce reduces.
>   5. Pour the remaining sauce in the pan over your dish before serving.
> 



	4. Chapter 4

Hanzo felt more and more like an idiot as his morning ticked by, the reply from McCree still up on his screen as he bought a small bag of potatoes, and he kept glancing at it as he returned home and carefully began halving that day’s recipe. He wasn’t some lovesick teenage girl, why was he getting so worked up over something as simple as a reply to a _YouTube comment?_

It was so ridiculously affectionate, though…then again, McCree seemed to sign off all his replies that way.

‘He probably thinks you’re one of the women who usually comments. Don’t read into it…’

His phone dinged again as he poured himself a cup of tea, and he glanced at the new reply.

 **SassyMomma  
** >whats kurozato????????

Hanzo sipped his tea with a little smile, tapping out a quick reply.

 **DragonLord89  
** >It means black sugar.

He was washing out his cup when another ding rang out.

 **周美玲  
** >Can you replace with brown sugar? The market was out of Taiwanese sugar, but  
>I still have some brown sugar I used when I made caramel.

 **DragonLord89  
** >周美玲, dark brown sugar should be an okay substitute, but true kurozatou  
>has no equal. 笑

Hanzo pulled open the cabinet and grabbed his bag of black sugar, snapping a photo of it before realizing that he couldn’t attach photos to comments. He shrugged, and simply tapped out another reply.

 **DragonLord89  
** >If you’re looking in the store, look for the characters 黒砂糖 on the bag.  
>It might be near the coffee if you don’t see it near the other sugars.

He was halfway through tapping in the e-mail address for the show when he paused. He was really going to e-mail Jesse McCree? He didn’t hesitate nearly as long before finishing the address, however. Of course he was going to e-mail him. McCree obviously wouldn’t be able to read the packages at the Asian market. He was the Cooking Cowboy, not the Cooking East Asian Languages Scholar.

_Dear Mr. McCree,_

Hanzo frowned and deleted the greeting. Too stiff and formal—this wasn’t a business e-mail. However, his cursor then hung after ‘Dear’. How to best sound polite, but informal, and avoid presuming familiarity?

Why was he making this so hard on himself?

_Dear Cooking Cowboy,_

_I was so excited to see your response to my comment on your latest video._  
_I thought I would share a photo of what my bag of kurozatou looks like, to help you find it in the store._  
_Sometimes, it is sold in large chunks like candy, so you may need to grind it in a mortar or your food processor. I buy it granulated, for convenience._  
_I hope you enjoy kurozatou in your teriyaki sauce.  
_ _I am going to try your hamburger recipe now, please wish me luck._

 _Sincerely,  
_ _DragonLord89_

Alright, enough of the fanboy nonsense. It was time to make lunch, and it had far more moving parts than his last few attempts. He had to time cooking beets and roasting potato wedges and frying hamburgers. McCree had already cooked his beets in his video, so Hanzo figured he’d better start there. He tapped in ‘cooking beets’ into his phone, and wilted slightly at the result. ‘Cooking time: 1 hour’

Great.

Maybe the recipe would be okay without the beet relish…? He was getting hungry, after all.

“Let’s start with the potatoes,” he told himself, turning the oven up to 450 and filling a pan to blanch the potatoes in. He sharpened his knife like always, carefully slicing thick rectangular skin-on slabs of potato and sliding them into the boiling water. Eight to ten minutes, or until barely tender.

That direction had always bemused him. Who sat around sampling undercooked food to find out if it was tender yet—let alone ‘barely tender’? Better to just set the kitchen timer for eight minutes and hope for the best.

In the meantime, there was the hamburger mix. He scrolled through his music selections and pulled up another classical playlist, a relaxing Chopin piece filling the kitchen as he prepared to work with his hands. The contrast brought a little smile to his face. Calm, peaceful piano music behind the squish of ketchup and meat and pepper between his fingers. It was a very visceral recipe—he wondered what his colleagues would think of him doing something so hands-on.

He hummed along to the gentle nocturne as he shaped a few hamburger patties, pressing a dimple into the middle of each one, as per McCree’s suggestion for even cooking. He quickly rinsed his hands off and slid the tray of patties into the fridge to firm up before turning his attention back to the fries, preparing the tray for the oven. McCree certainly made this look so easy, he was so at home in his kitchen. Surely, editing on the videos helped, but there was no doubt he was just a natural.

He pulled the potatoes from the stove and dumped them into a colander, washing them in cold water before spreading them on the tray, coating them perhaps overly carefully in salt and chili flakes. He slid the tray into the oven and wiped off his hands, sighing as he stared longingly into the oven. Still at least twenty minutes before he could eat…

* * *

Hanzo wasn’t used to such a thick burger. It was almost taller than it was wide, after he piled it high with tomatoes and lettuce and onions and pickles and a melted slice of cheddar, all on a toasted bun. The fries, too, were thick and golden, crispy and spicy on the outside and delightfully fluffy inside. He cut the burger in half, salivating as he saw how juicy it was before wrapping his mouth around the burger as best he could.

Jesse McCree was a godsend.

There was no mistaking that McCree liked plenty of fire in his food, but the hint of smokey spice from the paprika, the salt and acid from the Worcestershire sauce, the slight sweetness of the ketchup and the kick of the cayenne after…

Hanzo never would have thought to put these flavors together. He wasn’t nearly creative enough when it came to food, and half as adventurous. He was the sort of man who ate the same lunch every day for years, after all. It seemed like that was all starting to change.

He was a little disappointed when his plate was empty, but the prospect of having another one of these hamburgers for lunch tomorrow was encouraging. There was a neglected stove in the office kitchen and break room, after all—he could prepare everything ahead of time and cook it up over his lunch hour. It was exciting, this new culinary journey.

He couldn’t wait for Tuesday.

* * *

Hana didn’t usually run to Jesse’s house, and she usually didn’t even go to his house outside of filming days—she had her own streaming and channel management to keep up with, after all. But this warranted more than a text, or even a phone call.

“Jesse! Jesse, I know you’re in there! Open up!” she yelled, pounding on the door.

By the time he made it downstairs, Hana was textbombing him and kicking at the door to keep up the noise.

“Jeez, darlin’, what’s gotten into you?” McCree asked, glancing down at the 36th ‘OPEN UR DOOR’ text. The frustration evaporated from her face, replaced with the original worry.

“Um…we got an e-mail from a lawyer?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smoked Paprika Burgers, Steak Fries and Beet Relish
> 
> http://blog.qualifirst.com/smoked-paprika-burgers/  
> (Halved from original)
> 
>  **INGREDIENTS**  
>  **Hamburgers**  
>  3/4 lb ground beef  
> 3/4 teaspoon smoked paprika  
> 1 tablespoon ketchup  
> 1 teaspoon Worchestershire sauce  
> 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper  
> Salt & Pepper
> 
>  **Steak Fries**  
>  2 medium potatoes  
> 1 tablespoon olive oil  
> chili powder/flakes  
> Salt & Pepper
> 
>  **Beet Relish**  
>  1/4 lb cooked, peeled, chopped beets  
> 1 tablespoon capers  
> 1/4 bnch parsley  
> 1 tablespoon basalmic vinegar  
> 1 tablespoon olive oil  
> Salt & Pepper
> 
> **Smoked Paprika Burgers**
> 
>   1. Place all ingredients in a large mixing bowl and use your hands to evenly distribute the seasonings. Form into 4 to 6 patties.
>   2. Heat a tablespoon of olive oil in a large nonstick skillet set over medium heat.
>   3. Place the patties in the pan and cook, turning frequently until they are cooked to your desired done-ness.
>   4. Serve on toasted buns with the beet relish and your choice of other toppings.
> 

> 
> **Baked Potato Wedges**
> 
>   1. ****Preheat oven to 450F.
>   2. Parboil the potato wedges in salted, boiling water for 8 to 10 minutes or until barely tender. Drain.
>   3. Spread the olive oil, chili flakes, salt, and pepper on a cookie sheet. Dump the potatoes on top and toss to coat.
>   4. Place the tray in the middle of the preheated oven. After 10 minutes flip the wedges. Check on the potatoes after an additional 10 to 12 and remove from the oven once they are golden brown.
> 

> 
> **Beet Relish**
> 
>   1. Place all of the ingredients, except the olive oil in a food processor. Pulse until the relish is roughly chopped.
>   2. With the processor running, pour the olive oil into the feed tube.
>   3. Process until blended, but stop before the relish loses all texture.
> 



	5. Chapter 5

“A-a what?” McCree replied, his eyes widening.

“An e-mail! From a lawyer!” Hana repeated, pushing her way into the house and grabbing his wrist, dragging him into the dining room. She plopped into a chair and pulled her laptop out of her enormous tote, her channel’s bunny emblem sagging sadly without the structural integrity of her computer. “Look, it’s right….right here!” she said, loading up the correct inbox and pointing at the ‘From’ line.

_Hanzo Shimada, Attorney at Law, Morrison & Reyes LLP_

* * *

The lawyers at Morrison & Reyes LLP historically had a large backlog of e-mails after returning from the weekend, usually in multiple languages. Every member of the legal team had a strategy for coping with the load—Amélie tended to French matters first (of course); Satya had an elegant system of filters and folders, putting only unusual and urgent matters in her inbox to be handled and sorted immediately; Bastion _was_ his inbox (which often interfered with his weekend birdwatching trips), and Hanzo carefully, but casually sorted his work over the weekend to optimize his time when he returned to the office (then billed according to the number of e-mails exchanged).

And so, with his morning tea, Hanzo set to work on the twelve most ‘urgent’ e-mails of the weekend. Two contract consultation requests from a couple of small American firms, one that needed Mei’s cooperation before he could move forward, three referrals from his former firm back in Tokyo…looked like this was his lucky week.

The low sound of purring alerted him to the ‘visitor’ slipping under his desk, followed by the large black mass strolling across his keyboard.

“Good morning, Brutus,” he smiled, reaching up and scratching the cat behind his ear. “Amélie isn’t in yet, I presume?” He was answered only with a pleased meow before laying across Hanzo’s keyboard. Hanzo sighed and pulled open one of his desk drawers, withdrawing a hastily decorated cardboard box labeled ‘free cat’.

Brutus’s head spun around at the sound of cardboard meeting wood, and the universal law of cat gravitation came into effect at the mere sight of a box. Yet another one of the office efficiency hacks Hanzo had devised.

Two US contracts, CC Mei, three big Japanese contracts, five Re:re:Re:RE:Re: chains for existing projects on his calendar, and something that he normally would have trashed immediately.

‘Office Potluck! Friday—don’t forget!’

McCree must have a recipe suitable for an office potluck, right? Perhaps some meatballs, or something in a big bowl. Maybe he could make another attempt at baba ghanoush…?

Loud, mechanical footfalls signaled Bastion’s arrival in the office, along with low, grumbling fwoots and beeps.

“Morning, Basti…on…oh,” he heard Lena’s voice trail off outside his office, “What happened, love?”

Bastion booped and whirred, his gears grinding.

“Aw, that’s terrible! …Guess no more canoeing trips for you, huh?” Her only answer was a sad ‘fweep’ as he clunked down the hall, water still managing to leak from his shell and leaving moist footprints. Hanzo pulled up a new e-mail to building maintenance, requesting a wet-vac before picking up the first of his Re: chain e-mails.

* * *

There was a line for the wretched old microwave in the kitchen, as usual. Hanzo tried not to feel too smug as he pulled a well-organized bento box out of the office fridge and a frying pan out of one of the cabinets. He would have to do without french fries, but his lunch was normally light anyway—this burger would be the biggest lunch he’d eat outside of a business lunch.

He poured a touch of olive oil out of one of his fish-shaped soy bottles and glanced over at Lena, impatiently tapping her toe as she waited for her soup to heat up.

“Hanzo?” Mei called, poking her head into the kitchen, “Oh! Are you busy?”

“I’m just cooking,” he replied, laying the patty in the pan as the oil started to lightly smoke.

“Oh, wow! I’ve never seen anyone really cook in here,” she remarked, taking a few steps inside.

“Whatcha making?” Lena asked, leaning over.

“Just a hamburger,” Hanzo said, lifting the pan slightly as if to prove it.

“Ooh. Y’know you can just buy one, though,” she said, glancing up at him.

“I am aware,” Hanzo chuckled. “Cooking is my new hobby.”

“Sounds fun,” Mei smiled. “And healthy.”

“I don’t know about that,” Hanzo smiled sheepishly, carefully flipping the burger. “My first recipe was dessert.”

“Well, can you come by my office after lunch? I’ve got some time before my conference call to talk about that case you sent me,” Mei said, “I’d talk now, but I’ve got lunch with a client…”

“Of course, go, go,” Hanzo replied, waving her off in an almost mothering gesture, “Don’t be late!” He jumped slightly as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, but he didn’t think much of it. He was on his lunch break—whoever it was surely wouldn’t want to be charged time and a half for having their e-mail answered _right this very moment_. He tended the meat, arranged his toppings, watched the line for the microwave shift but never appear to grow shorter, and finally settled back to have his second spicy hamburger of the week under the jealous gaze of his coworkers.

“What is that smell?” Amélie asked, her nose wrinkling slightly as she retrieved her lunch from the fridge as well—an apple and goat cheese salad with a homemade dressing. Hanzo had half a mind to ask for the recipe (or at least he did before her remark), but he had a feeling that it was probably a fiercely guarded family secret.

“What’s wrong with my food?” Hanzo asked, trying not to sound too affronted—normally, he and Amélie were benign toward one another in the office.

“Not you,” she said, leaning slightly and glaring in the direction of the microwave line.

“Leftovers,” Torbjörn called from his place at the head of the line. “It’s just pasta, nothing unusual.”

“That’s why I never use the microwave,” Satya remarked, reaching behind Amélie for her lunch as well, “It smells like everyone else’s food.”

“It’s older than Lena, what do you expect?” Amélie asked, smirking slightly as they settled into their salads.

“Suppose someone ‘accidentally’ microwaved a fork one day,” Torbjörn mused, “Jack would have to buy us a new one then, wouldn’t he?”

“Don’t let him hear that,” Hanzo smirked.

“Feh! Who’s going to hear it? He’s at a business lunch. Besides, I know a few good lawyers,” he chuckled, pulling his criminally unevenly heated pasta out of the microwave and heading back to his office to eat. Hanzo shook his head and pulled out his phone, checking the alert that had come in as he neared the last few bites of his hamburger.

He froze at the ‘From’ line.

_Jesse McCree_

No way.

Could it be a coincidence? Could there be two people named ‘Jesse McCree’ out there, one of whom needed legal advice? …Could _the_ Jesse McCree need legal advice? ‘Don’t be stupid, he wouldn’t need international legal counsel,’ he thought, his finger hovering over the item in his inbox.

 

 _Dear Mr. Shimada,  
  
__Thank you for your message!  
__I must say, you gave us all quite a shock when your e-mail showed up in our inbox. It was a relief to see it wasn’t a C &D or a DMCA warning.  
__I’ll definitely keep a copy of that photo on my phone, so I can check all the packages at the Asian market. Someone else mentioned ‘Taiwanese sugar’ in the comment section, and it seems to be a similar ingredient, so if all else fails, I’ll look for that.  
__I don’t have a teriyaki episode on the schedule in the near future, but I’ve been planning on including this recipe in my cookbook. I’d like to test and possibly include your recommendation for black sugar. If you would like credit for the recommendation, I’d be happy to include you in the Acknowledgments page, or even on the recipe page itself if you’d like. Please let me know which you’d prefer—or which is best, in your legal opinion.  
__I hope your burgers turned out well, and I hope you enjoy tomorrow’s episode!  
  
__Sincerely,  
__Jesse McCree  
__The Cooking Cowboy_  
YouTube | Instagram | Facebook

 

 _> Dear Cooking Cowboy,_  
_>_  
_> I was so excited to see your response to my comment on your latest video._  
_> I thought I would share a photo of what my bag of kurozatou looks like, to help you find it in the  
>store. Sometimes, it is sold in large chunks like candy, so you may need to grind it in a mortar or  
>your food processor. I buy it granulated, for convenience._  
_> I hope you enjoy kurozatou in your teriyaki sauce._  
_> I am going to try your hamburger recipe now, please wish me luck._  
_>_  
_> Sincerely,_  
_> DragonLord89_  
_>_  
_>_  
_> Hanzo Shimada_  
_> Attorney at Law  
_ _> Morrison & Reyes, LLP  
__>_ _島田半蔵_ |  _ 弁護士  
_ _> モリソン・レイエス法律事務所_

 

Oh no. _Oh no._

He sent it from his work e-mail.  _And he’_ _d_ _signed it DragonLord89_.

Could he actually strangle himself with his own necktie, or would he need to commit seppuku with his letter opener to properly atone for this humiliation? Would throwing his phone across the room and screaming in anguish be a good start for either course of action?

Hanzo would only notice later that he’d thrown his entire plate away on his way out of the break room, his phone held tight in his hand as he returned to his office. The cat had vacated his desk (and was currently sleeping on Amélie’s chair, no doubt), which was good—he didn’t need Brutus’s judging stare right then as he grabbed a throw pillow off of his office futon and screamed into it long and steady.

* * *

“Hope that e-mail was formal enough,” McCree remarked, snapping Hana’s laptop shut and sliding it across the table to her.

“He’s a fan, you don’t have to be _super_ formal,” she replied, popping her gum as she worked the computer back in the bag.

“Yeah, but he’s a lawyer an’ all,” he sighed. “Guess y’ get all sorts on YouTube, huh?”

“Well, you’ve got a pretty big following, for a cooking channel. At least he’s not a super weirdo,” Hana shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go livestream for a few hours. Text me before you go to the Asian market—that should be documented for the ages,” she grinned, patting his shoulder. “Later.”

“Yeah, sure, see ya later,” he called through the screen door, strolling into his immaculately kept kitchen and absent-mindedly opening the cupboards. He knew he was supposed to be looking to see if there were any other out-of-the-ordinary ingredients he needed to pick up while he was out and about in a specialty market (and checking to see how much space there would be for the 15 things he inevitably bought just because they caught his eye), but his mind kept drifting back to ‘DragonLord89’.

He’d looked so straight-laced in his photo on the firm’s website, in his slick black suit and blue tie and with that little gold lapel pin he had on (‘Wow, just like in a drama!’ Hana had gushed), and with all the cool confidence one would expect from a successful lawyer with a list of law degrees and professional relationships like his. It was weirdly flattering, knowing a man as smart and successful as Hanzo ‘DragonLord89’ Shimada, Esq. was a fan.

_And he’s so handsome…!_


	6. Chapter 6

“Now I know I did a dessert last time, but what can I say? I got me a bit of a sweet tooth—an’ this time, I ain’t even gotta bake!” McCree teased in his cold open, the theme music starting up.

“This here Chuckwagon Challenge was inspired by an e-mail from a fan who challenged me to cook somethin’ from her home town of Hyderabad. Now, you could make a whole YouTube show jes’ cookin’ Indian food, so I was glad it was a super specific request,” McCree grinned. His smiling face was quickly replaced with a map of India, pointing out Hyderabad and parading a few dishes across the screen.

“Hyderabadi cuisine has a lotta Islamic influence, specifically Turkish and Persian, and it’s great if yer a vegetarian. But if you like meat like me, it ain’t a problem, neither—lamb an’ halal beef features in a lotta Hyderabadi dishes, too. But today, I’m makin’ one o’ the most popular desserts an’ party foods in Hyderabad: Double ka Meetha.”

A luscious-looking plate of what looked like some sort of nut-topped French toast faded in, the golden cashews and pale green of pistachios giving the dish a warm, fresh look. “It’s a really rich, creamy Indian bread pudding, an’ it’s one of my new favorites. If you think yer kids won’t try it, call it Indian-style French Toast—my guess is you won’t be able t’ get ‘em to stop eating once they start!

“It’s pretty similar to Shahi Tukda, a popular Pakistani dish served during Eid. ‘Shahi’ means ‘Royal’, so they like to add gold an’ silver flakes on top when they’re done. Hyderabad was famous for diamonds an’ pearls, though, an’ ain’t nobody wanna break a tooth on a diamond in their dessert—so we’ll be toppin’ it off with fried fruits, nuts an’ spices. Since it’s usually made fer weddings an’ special occasions, it uses a lotta rare, expensive spices, so even without the gold flakes you’ll still feel like royalty eatin’ this!” Jesse smiled, holding up a sticky triangle of sweet nutty goodness, the custard-looking topping soaked into it.

“To start, take yer bread an’ dry it out, so it don’t get soggy when we fry it. You can either leave it out in the sun t’ dry out naturally, or do it like me an’ just use yer toaster on a really low setting—we don’t wanna overcook it!” he explained, two slices of barely toasted bread popping out of his toaster and getting added to a stack on a plate. “Traditionally, the bread’s cut in triangles with no crust, so set aside a little time t’ do that,” he added, neatly cutting the crusts off of the bread.

“Alright, while the bread’s dryin’, we gotta make a rabri, a kind of milk-only custard,” he said, the camera back on him. “Now, if you can find khoya at the Asian or Indian market, it’s a great ingredient—it’s a super-condensed cream from whole milk, with a texture almost like a cheese,” Jesse explained, holding up what looked like slightly dry ricotta. “If you’ve got khoya, makin’ rabri goes a lot faster, since you can jes’ crumble it an’ mix it into milk to rehydrate it, an’ it’ll be even richer than normal ‘cause it’s got extra cream. Boil the khoya an’ milk mixture ‘til the milk’s been reduced to at least half, an’ that’s yer rabri base.

“If’n y’ ain’t got khoya, though, y’ gotta make rabri from scratch, an’ we all know cookin’ milk requires yer full attention.” He clapped his hands, looking far too excited about cooking a milk-based sauce. “So! T’ make rabri, you wanna use whole milk, ‘cause we need that fat, that rich cream to really get the full flavor. Y’ wanna use a thick-bottomed pan, so y’ don’t burn the milk, an’ we’re gonna cook it an’ reduce it to at least half—if’n you got the time, reduce it further. Y’ can make rabri on its own as a dessert, an’ then y’ definitely wanna reduce it a lot more, but that can take more’n an hour dependin’ on how much y’ start with, an’ the rabri is a topping here, not the whole dish,” he explained.

“So to start, we wanna boil the milk, an’ once it hits that point, turn the heat waaay down an’ stir it gently. While we’re reducin’ the milk, you’ll start t’ see the cream formin’ up on the top. Push it off t’ the sides of yer pan, up outta the milk,” he explained, narrating a demonstration of how to gently scoop up the clotted cream and press it against the sides of the pan with a classic wooden spoon. “And y’ wanna do this every 3 minutes or so. If ya stir too much, the cream won’t form up like this, but too little an’ the milk can burn. Keep an eye on it, an’ if ya trust yerself, you can cook the rest of the ingredients while yer rabri’s reducing. Jes’ make sure y’ keep checkin’ in,” he advised.

“I’ll throw in some directions fer a really quick rabri recipe in the description box, in case y’ mess up or y’ ain’t got time. But I believe in you—give the traditional way a try!” he smiled, his tone encouraging.

“Next, we wanna mix up a sugar syrup. Mix up equal parts sugar an’ water an’ boil it ‘til it gets thick. You can add some lemon juice to keep the sugar from fallin’ back out, an’ yer ground cardamom t’ flavor it,” he narrated, calmly mixing and pouring spices into the slowly thickening syrup. “Cardamom’s got some lemony tones to it, so don’ worry about the lemon juice throwin’ off the flavor none,” he added, winking. “You can also add some food coloring here if y’ want, but I like t’ leave things natural.”

“Once yer bread’s dry, fry it up. You can use a vegetable oil, but I used ghee, for a richer flavor. ‘Sides, we’re gonna be fryin’ in ghee later, too, so why not use all that goodness twice?” he grinned, scooping some golden ghee out of a little jar and dropping it into a warm pan to melt. “Fry yer bread on low heat ‘til it’s nice an’ golden on both sides, then pull it out an’ pat it dry. We’ll come back to the bread later, promise. After the bread, we wanna fry up our cashews, raisins, sliced almonds, sliced pistachios, throw in some dates, maybe some dried apricot, too,” McCree mused, throwing in more and more fruits. “An’ you can mix an’ match these a bit, some folks only do nuts, but the goal is that super rich variety. Jes’ make sure y’ don’t overcook these, neither—burnt raisins are awful. Drain them when they’re done an’ keep ‘em aside, too.”

“Now, it all starts t’ come together,” Jesse grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Take yer sugar syrup from before, and dip the fried bread in it, an’ let it soak up the sugar syrup for say, 10 seconds, tops. Put all the bread in a deep dish or a pan, an’ sprinkle the fried nuts an’ fruit on top of that, then pour the remaining syrup over everything,” he narrated, pouring what little syrup remained into the pan as if he was decorating a stack of pancakes.

“Last, we’ll add the finished rabri. Once it’s been reduced by at least half (it’s better if you reduce it way down, maybe a third or even a quarter of what y’ started with, but if y’ want it thinner or if yer impatient, it’s fine), add in some sugar, an’ some saffron strands an’ mix it all in. The saffron makes it nice an’ aromatic, and turns it yellow—don’t panic! Everything’s supposed to be rich and creamy and gold,” he smiled, mixing the rabri with casual confidence. “Then we scrape the cream we’ve been gatherin’ back into the milk an’ cook it all on low heat for another two minutes, an’ pour it out on top of the bread. Let the bread soak up all that sweet, creamy milk an’ spices, an’ serve!

“It’s best warm, but the recipe is a little involved t’ serve it fresh as a dessert, so if ya make it ahead of time, jes’ reheat it the same way you’d reheat a bread pudding—preheat the oven to 350, an’ pop the tray back in for about 10 minutes.”

Hanzo drummed his fingers along the back of his phone as McCree’s outro played, humming softly in consideration. Desserts were always a hit for potlucks, and he’d eaten a lot of Indian food, thanks to Sayta choosing the location for more than a few business lunches. He’d certainly have time to try it out, and if it was a disaster, he could always pick up donuts on the way to the office.

None of McCree’s recipes had been disasters yet, though. Hanzo felt hopeful about the prospect.

But he didn’t have ghee, and he definitely didn’t have khoya. He’d have to swing by the market for those, for sure.

* * *

“You sure we shouldn’t livestream this?” McCree asked, following the directions on his phone.

“Shopping is only fun for the people doing it. We can edit it and toss it up on Saturday, no big deal,” Hana explained from behind the camera, the sound of her gum amplified by proximity.

“Yeah, I s’pose that’s true, gives me more time t’ knock out that Beef Bourguignon episode,” McCree shrugged, leaning over the steering wheel and peering up at street signs.

“You’re on the right street, it’s fine,” Hana chuckled, turning the camera around. “Annyeong, everybody, it’s the much-awaited Cooking Cowboy/D.Va Gaming crossover episode.”

“Yer channel’s more popular than mine, it should go first.”

“Pfft, we have like, _no_ crossover in our fans’ interests,” she laughed, turning the camera back on him. “What, am I doing a VOD review of your shopping technique?”

“What in the world does that even mean?”

Hana giggled off-screen. “Okay, so, you know like, an instant replay points out what went wrong in a sports play? Like that, but for the whole game.”

“So y’all do stats an’ analysis an’ such fer video games now?”

“Yeah. That’s like, my whole channel. That and coaching.”

“How do you find out you’re good at stuff like that?” he asked, pulling into a parking lot.

“Well, when you get good at seeing where your enemies are making mistakes, it makes it easy to point out those mistakes to other people.”

“Alright, alright, I hear ya,” McCree chuckled, sliding out of the cab. “Just nuts t’ think a kid yer age is coachin’ anything bigger’n a little squirts basketball team.”

“I played basketball, too,” she giggled, slinging her bag over her shoulder and following him into the shop, the bell over the door ringing.

“Ugh, what’s that smell?” McCree whispered under his breath, “Like onions made of rotten eggs.”

“That’s a durian,” Hana laughed, pointing out the large spiky fruit. “If you can get past that, then you can come in the store, I guess.” McCree picked up one of the giant fruits, holding it out to the camera.

“Want a bite?”

“No way!”

“Y’all can prolly smell this through yer screen,” McCree remarked, turning the fruit over in his hands. “Looks like a sea urchin, an’ it smells like a rotten sea urchin. I’ve heard they taste pretty good, though, but…I dunno, I think there might be places even I won’t go.”

“You eat ghost peppers, and a durian scares you?”

“Ghost peppers don’t smell bad,” he laughed. “…Hm, I dunno, I’ve heard it’s kinda like chives an’ mango an’ whipped cream with garlic—should we buy one an’ try it?”

“Sure,” Hana said, “But just leave it here. We’ll buy it last.”

“Good plan,” he said, setting it back down and wiping his hands on his jeans. “Oh, hey! Ginger root! Need me some o’ that…”

“Ohmygosh! Banana milk!” Hana cried, her hand darting forward and grabbing something from a cooler, presenting it to the camera. “This was my favorite drink when I was a kid! I always wished they’d give me a sponsorship, but they never did.”

“Oh wow, Japanese eggplants!” McCree called off-camera. “…We ain’t never gettin’ outta here,” he laughed, wandering down the aisles with Hana on his heels.

The bell over the door rang again and a man entered, experienced enough in the ways of the Asian market to hold his breath on the way in.

“ _Welcome back, sir,_ ” the woman behind the counter smiled, her Chinese quick and relaxed. “ _Has your Chinese improved?_ ”

“ _No, sorry,_ ” Hanzo chuckled. It was true, his Chinese was terrible; heavily accented, often kludged together from his knowledge of Taiwanese, and heavily supplemented with jotting down kanji and hoping the other party could read Traditional. He could, however, handle himself at the market, at least. “ _Do you have khoya or ghee?_ ” The woman hissed, wincing slightly at his question—the universal signal of impending bad news.

“ _No, sorry, we don’t stock much Indian food. Try Patel’s Market, at 28_ _th_ _and Winthrop. Do you need a map?”_ she asked, speaking more slowly as her gentle teasing ended.

“ _Thank you, I’m fine,_ ” he replied—one of the stock phrases he had successfully learned. He smiled and bowed lightly, backing out of the shop with his breath held again as he passed the durians.

“ _Come back soon!_ ” the woman called, casually sliding back along the counter to watch as McCree perused the sauce aisle.

“Dang, they got Sriracha ketchup now?” McCree remarked, grabbing a bottle. “Can’t pass that up! Hana?” McCree turned and looked, the young woman’s attention fixed on the door. “…Haaaaanaaaa…”

“Omigod, Jesse—you won’t believe who was just in here.”

* * *

The biggest problem with trying a totally new recipe is being unsure if what you’ve made actually tastes the way it ought to.

Hanzo’s rabri was certainly rich, with a slightly sweet citrusy tang. But he wasn’t sure if it had the correct texture—searching for rabri recipes only produced stand-alone recipes that took upwards of 90 minutes to prepare. McCree had said it was okay if it was a little runny, it was supposed to soak into the bread, after all…

And oh, soak it did. Who knew just two spices could build such a complex flavor? Like cinnamon and eucalyptus and honey and the sweet smell of summer grass…the saffron and fresh cardamom might have been expensive, and the khoya and ghee might have been a little out of his way to track down, but it was worth it.

He just hoped the reheating directions would work out—he hadn’t used the office oven, after all, and he’d eaten his sample piece hot and fresh.

“Well, look who cooked something,” Satya remarked, a little smirk on her lips. “Jack will be disappointed that you didn’t bring your usual donuts.”

“Perhaps he can be persuaded to eat what I brought,” Hanzo smirked as well, falling into step next to her on the way to the break room.

“What did you make, exactly?”

“Ah, it’s a recipe I found online,” he explained, pulling back the tin foil covering the deep baking dish. Satya peeked inside, her eyes going wide.

“Don’t tell me…” Satya began, setting her dish down and pulling off the cover as well, revealing a matching Double ka Meetha. “Do you…watch…well, you know?” she asked, giving him a suspicious look.

“…Do you watch, too?” he asked, pulling his dish a little closer, as if it could shield him from any more cowboy-related embarrassment that week. The two stared each other down for a moment, quietly judging one another’s taste in YouTube channels before, quiet unexpectedly, Satya let out a burst of laughter.

“As if him making an episode out of my request wasn’t a big enough surprise!” she laughed, covering her dish up again and putting it in the fridge, shaking her head and chuckling.

“Shall I reheat yours at the same time as mine?” Hanzo asked, re-covering his tray.

“I suppose I’ll trust you with my Double ka Meetha,” Satya smirked, “Though be aware, I will be judging your execution—it’s a good recipe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hyderabadi Double ka Meetha  
> http://www.bawarchi.com/recipe/hyderabadi-double-ka-meetha-oetn4rdbgeidi.html  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LTGFsYGqYFo
> 
> **INGREDIENTS**
> 
> **Double ka Meetha:**
> 
> Half a loaf of bread  
> 1/2 cup ghee (clarified butter)  
> 1 cup water  
> 1 cup sugar  
> A squeeze of lemon juice  
> 1/4 tsp cardamom powder  
> Assorted dried regional fruits and nuts (cashews, raisins, almonds, pistachios, dates, etc.)
> 
> **DIRECTIONS**
> 
>   1. Toast bread lightly, remove crusts and cut into triangles.
>   2. Begin making rabri (see below). Be sure to carefully monitor the rabri while cooking. (If you want to devote your full attention to the rabri, cook it last--the other components won't go bad while you cook, and rabri is one of the last components added.)
>   3. Make sugar syrup by combining sugar and water; boil and stir until it becomes thick.
>   4. Add a squeeze of lemon juice and cardamom to the sugar syrup, and set aside.
>   5. Fry bread slices in ghee until golden. Remove bread and pat dry.
>   6. Fry cashews, raisins, almonds, pistachios and dates in the remaining ghee.
>   7. Dip the bread in sugar syrup and allow it to soak for approx. 10 seconds.
>   8. Place the sugar-soaked bread in a deep dish or pan. Pour the remaining syrup over the bread.
>   9. Spread fried fruits and nuts over the bread.
>   10. Pour finished rabri over the bread, fruits and nuts.
>   11. Serve warm.
> 

> 
> **Rabri**  
>  http://foodviva.com/dessert-recipes/rabri-recipe/
> 
> 3 cups whole milk  
> (1 1/2 cup khoya)  
> 1 tbsp sugar (or as required)  
> 1/4 tsp saffron strands (approx 12-15 strands)  
> (1/4 tsp cardamom, if you are making rabri as a stand-alone recipe; if you are making double ka meetha, do not add more cardamom--it's expensive and it's already in the sugar syrup!)
> 
> **DIRECTIONS**
> 
>   1. Boil milk in a broad, thick-bottomed pan over medium heat.
>   2. Reduce heat to low, and stir about every 3 minutes to prevent scalding.
>   3. (If using khoya, crumble and add it now).
>   4. When cream settles to the top, push it toward the side of the pan and up onto the sides above the surface of the milk.
>   5. Continue to simmer and collect the cream until reduced to about 1/3rd the original quantity.
>   6. Add sugar and stir, mix well.
>   7. Add saffron strands and stir.
>   8. Scrape the cream into the thickened milk and stir gently.
> 

> 
>   
> ( **Quick Rabri recipe**  
>  https://www.tarladalal.com/Instant-Rabri-Quick-Rabdi-2794r
> 
> 3 cups whole milk  
> 2 fresh bread slices  
> 1/2 cup condensed milk  
> 1 tbsp sugar
> 
> **DIRECTIONS**
> 
>   1. Remove crusts and grind the bread to make bread crumbs.
>   2. Bring the milk to a boil in a thick-bottomed pan.
>   3. Add bread crumbs, sugar, and condensed milk, bring down to a medium heat and mix well for 8-10 minutes, scraping the sides of the pan.
>   4. Allow to cool slightly, and introduce to the double ka meetha recipe as directed.)
> 



	7. Chapter 7

‘Cooking Cowboy – Shopping Saturday! Feat. D.Va Gaming!’

Hanzo chuckled as he nibbled at the last few pieces of Double ka Meetha. He’d been able to figure out through watching back episodes and through discussions with Satya and Mei (who _also_ brought Double ka Meetha to the office potluck, much to Jack’s bewilderment) that this ‘D.Va’ was a champion Starcraft player from South Korea who had moved to America, probably for college, or to play in more international tournaments following the dissolution of the official StarCraft ProLeague. Satya suggested that her father’s company may had relocated them, but Hanzo doubted that. Korea—and Genji—took gaming _very_ seriously. He had negotiated a few e-sport players’ contracts when they’d been signed to Korean teams, and they were shockingly strict, even to American eyes—no Korean business would risk the career of such a bright young star just to move some mid-level manager to a North American branch.

She was also, it seemed, Jesse McCree’s neighbor, and the one who had gotten him into YouTubing in the first place.

“Annyeong, everybody, it’s the much-awaited Cooking Cowboy/D.Va Gaming crossover episode,” a spunky young girl announced, flashing a peace sign as she chewed her bubble gum.

“Yer channel’s more popular than mine, it should go first.”

“Pfft, we have like, _no_ crossover in our fans’ interests,” she laughed, turning the camera to face McCree as he drove, his truck just as much a reflection of his cowboy persona as anything else. He was even wearing a cowboy hat, and had to constantly peer up from under the broad brim to check street names.

The title card popped up, but it was significantly different from McCree’s normal card—it was bright green and pink with a cute rabbit icon, a cowboy hat dropping into the frame and landing squarely on the icon’s head. He was pretty sure the text in a very cute bubbly Korean font read ‘Cooking Cowboy’, but his Korean had never been particularly strong. Genji would probably know…not that he needed to share his hobby with his brother or anything. Another card flashed up on the screen.

“ITEM #1: DURIAN – KING OF THE FRUITS (eww)  
Banned on the Singapore Mass Rapid Transit  
Smells good to some people, and _terrible_ to others! (smells bad to both of us)”

“Ugh, what’s that smell?” McCree whispered under his breath, the video cutting to some more B-roll of the stack of durians by the door. Hanzo felt a surge of deja vu as he looked at the stack.

No. Had to be a coincidence. Plenty of Asian markets sold durians.

“Y’all can prolly smell this through yer screen,” McCree said, the camera zooming in on the durian as if to give the viewers a whiff. “Looks like a sea urchin, an’ it smells like a rotten sea urchin. I’ve heard they taste pretty good, though, but…I dunno, I think there might be places even I won’t go.”

“You eat ghost peppers, and a durian scares you?”

“Ghost peppers don’t smell bad,” he laughed.

“ITEM #2: BANANA MILK – THE BEST DRINK _EVAAAA_  
Most popular drink in Korea (definitely!)  
Also comes in Light, Strawberry and Melon flavors”

“Ohmygosh! Banana milk!” A squat, pale yellow bottle was presented to the camera, the green suspiciously similar to the green in her channel theme. “This was my favorite drink when I was a kid! I always wished they’d give me a sponsorship, but they never did.” The bottle dropped into a hand basket, followed by a shot of her furiously dumping the entire shelf of bottles into the basket.

“ITEM #3: SRIRACHA KETCHUP – SOME LIKE IT HOT  
Heinz makes Sriracha-flavored ketchup, but McCree likes this better  
He used to make his own spicy ketchup by just mixing Sriracha into the ketchup bottle!

“This’ll save me from accidentally usin’ my homemade spicy ketchup when I want Sriracha,” McCree grinned, dropping it in his own basket.

“ITEM #4-7: TEAS AND SOME THAI DRINKS THAT NEITHER OF US CAN READ (IT’S TEA THO, LOL)  
Also some tapioca pearls  
Make me bubble tea, Jesse! ( òㅅó )”

“You ever just…see stuff an’ just think ‘I’m gonna buy that an’ see what happens’? ‘Cause I’m doin’ that right now,” McCree explained, holding up a box of tea with a colorful Thai label.

“Aww, you mean you don’t read Thai?” Hana giggled.

“Can’t say that I do,” he replied, “You?”

“Nope.”

“Well, looks like tea, an’ I’m willin’ to risk it.”

“Waitwait, is that tapioca pearls?”

“Where?”

“Down here,” Hana said, the camera bouncing as she dropped down, pulling a package with a roughly translated Chinese label.

“Sure looks like it.”

“You’re buying this,” she declared, dropping a few packages in McCree’s basket, “You’ve gotta make a Bubble Tea episode. You gotta.”

“Alright,” McCree laughed, “Sounds tasty.”

“And cheaper than going to the Boba Tea place!”

“Y’ might have t’ walk me through it—ain’t never had bubble tea.”

“Never?!” The camera swung around to Hana’s face, a dangerous grin on her face. “Ohh, we’re going to give Jesse McCree a religious experience.”

“ITEM #8: BLACK SUGAR!  
As recommended by DragonLord89  
(P.S. We just missed you!)”

The rest of the video was something of a blur, of McCree’s handsome face holding up and discussing ingredients in packages he couldn’t read, but still excited about the idea of finding out and using them.

It wasn’t a coincidence.

It was his favorite market.

The one he’d gone to forever. Jesse McCree had been in _his favorite market_. Recently, even.

‘We just missed you’—?

It was a good thing Hanzo lived alone, because the sound he let out as the penny finally dropped was neither dignified nor healthy-sounding. His phone clattered to the kitchen floor, followed moments later by Hanzo, sinking to his knees before slumping over, staring blankly at the phone as the video continued to play.

‘It’s a good thing the floor is clean,’ was the only truly coherent thought that passed through his mind. The rest was a cacophony of ‘oh my God’s and ‘no way’s and ‘Hoo boy howdy’s in a voice other than his usual internal monologue’s.

Jesse McCree was local.

He was _in town right now_.

They could have passed each other in the supermarket or at the mall or the convenience store a dozen times.

‘Oh god we were in the store at the same time’

‘You already realized that—’

‘ _Oh god we were in the store_ _at the same time_ _!’_

‘Yes, we were—’

‘ _OH MY GOD_ _NO_ _HE HEARD MY HORRIBLE CHINESE WHAT IF HE SPEAKS CHINESE OH MY GOD—’_

‘Don’t be stupid, it’s pretty much impossible that he speaks Chinese, why would he—’

‘ _IT’S NOT IMPOSSIBLE WHAT IF HE DOES THOUGH? YOU HAVEN’T HEARD HIM NEVER NOT SPEAK CHINESE—’_

‘Wait—how did they even know they’d just missed me? _Oh god no they looked at my profile on the firm’s website oh my god no’_

‘ _I TOLD YOU I TOLD YOU OH MY GOD_ ’

‘ _Oh my god no no no no NO!_ ’

* * *

It was hard to tell how long Hanzo had laid on the kitchen floor. His leftover double ka meetha was cold by the time he finally stood, and his phone was down to about 40% battery, but he didn’t remember how much charge it had when he’d started.

Hanzo splashed some water on his face and sighed, leaning over the kitchen sink and frowning at his foggy reflection in the stainless steel. He hadn’t had a panic attack since his first year at law school…he’d been so vigilant, always made time for daily meditation… Maybe that was it. He hadn’t been to the temple in a long, long time. He’d been dealing with some fairly complex contracts, he had tight translation deadlines…

‘If you want to avoid a full-blown anxiety disorder, might I suggest a career other than law?’ the campus psychiatrist had said. ‘Or at least transfer into the Master Program, focus more on research—the level of stress that practicing lawyers undergo…’ Hanzo had left the office with his head hung, and he had a sneaking suspicion that someone from the office had followed him to the station to check on him. No need to worry about _jinshin jiko_ —the Namboku line had platform guards in every station, and it wouldn’t even cost him extra time to bike to his destination rather than take the Metro anyway.

It was less than 15 minutes before he’d shuffled into his temple, past knots of tourists and school children on field trips, and not five minutes after arriving that one of the priests observed his state.

‘You are afraid you are being judged by people—at least in a court room, you _know_ it to be true. Let that knowledge be confidence. Pursue your talent, study law. Disassemble that fear. Prepare a votive offering and pray that Fudou cuts that which binds you,’ the priest had instructed, while also suggesting that seeing him in the meditation hall more often certainly wouldn’t do him any harm.

And now, here he was after all this time, starting to pull at the seams again. A new hobby wasn’t enough, it seemed. Maybe he’d put down the legal briefs tomorrow and find somewhere quiet to meditate.

…For now, though, he needed some comfort food. His hand moved for his phone without even thinking, scrolling through videos. A new one had been posted about an hour ago—had he been out of it that long, or did he just not notice…? The title said something about cookies, and that sounded good enough to Hanzo. 

The ad before the video was short enough that there was no option to skip, and it looked quite a bit like the typical ads targeted at Omnic viewers—Hanzo didn’t imagine that many would watch a cooking channel, seeing as Omnics didn’t eat.

‘Southern California Shambali Temple and Retreat’ the still screen read, accompanied by a rapid series of beeps and clicks and an elegantly framed QR code.

It was a large one—probably a direct message and GPS coordinates, rather than a simple link to a website. Hanzo had never heard of the ‘Southern California Shambali Temple and Retreat’…maybe they were small and hadn’t set up a website yet? Maybe it was more in keeping with the Shambali way to not build a website…

Maybe Hanzo would go and ask tomorrow.

“Now, I wouldn’t leave y’all with just a video of my Asian Market adventures fer Saturday! It’s a two-fer!” McCree announced, the same title card from before flashing up again announcing that it was still ‘crossover day’, it seemed.

“Today, I’ve got a special guest on this side o’ the camera. Y’all might remember her from the last episode, or from her winnin’ the Starcraft World Championship four times in a row, if’n ya got linked over from her channel. She’s my camerawoman, editor, and ‘coach’, Hana Song. Good t’ have ya on this side of the camera,” he said, looking down at the girl next to him. Her brown hair was styled simply—the sort of look that took far longer than one would expect—and she had little pink marks on her cheeks that screamed ‘kawaii’, though they did little to soften her mischievous look.

“Good to be here,” she grinned, winking and flashing a peace sign at the camera. “It’s nice to take some time off from owning all the n00bs on campus who think girls don’t play competitively.”

“I’m surprised they’d let a bona fide world champion compete at the collegiate level.”

“Well, e-sports aren’t controlled by the NCAA or anything and there aren’t many official leagues, so a lot of college e-sports teams compete as semi-pro…it’s just hard to keep up with class and play in professional circuits all the time, so we usually take it back a notch and dominate the collegiate leagues, and play hard during the summer seasons.”

“Guess it ain’t so different from Olympic soccer, then. U-23, not an official FIFA event—”

“ _You_ watch _soccer_?” she asked, gaping.

“Dallas, red and white!” McCree smiled, raising his fist in celebration.

“Busan IPark is red and white, too! Ohmygod, you’re my new favorite person!” Hana grinned, hugging McCree around the middle. “You’ve gotta watch K-League matches with me now.”

“Haha, no problemo, kid,” McCree grinned, ruffling her hair in an affectionate, fatherly way. “Now, what are we cookin’ today?”

“Oh, right! We’re making cookie dough!” Hana grinned. “When you want sweets, but you don’t want to go through all the trouble or salmonella poisoning of making and eating a whole batch of cookie dough, you can make a single-serving!”

“Now Hana, how much time d’you usually spend in the kitchen?”

“Oh, like, none,” she laughed, “I’m too busy to cook. Appa does the cooking, and he’s pretty good, but he doesn’t make many sweets.”

“Now, I’m not sure I should trust you with this recipe, ‘cause it’s real simple, an’ I’d hate to think I caused you any cavities, eatin’ all this cookie dough…” McCree began, smirking.

“I can handle it! I’m totally a responsible person!”

“Alright, if you can be trusted…here’s my no-egg snackin’ cookie dough recipe. Since it ain’t got eggs, it’s safe to jes’ snack on it, an’ it’s a real easy clean-up.”

“Now, yer dry ingredients are pretty simple. You need a tablespoon of plain white sugar, an’ a tablespoon o’ brown sugar. Since we jes’ bought it, we’re usin’ the Okinawan Black Sugar today,” McCree said, gesturing to the bag which matched the one in Hanzo’s cabinet. “You’ll also need a quarter cup o’ flour—since we ain’t bakin’, you can use any flour substitute y’ want, without worryin’ about it changin’ the consistency of nothin’ when it bakes.

“You can also add in anythin’ ya like here, like chocolate chips, raisins, butterscotch chips, nuts, candy pieces, a bit o’ orange zest—anything you like in yer baked cookies,” he said, gesturing to a variety of baking mix-ins on the counter.

“I like a lot of chocolate chips in mine, so I’m going for that,” Hana said, following along and dumping a large amount of chocolate chips in her mixing bowl.

“Careful, now,” McCree laughed, “Save some fer the rest of us! Now, add in yer wet ingredients. You’ll want 1/8th teaspoon of vanilla extract—really just a couple o’ drops, to give it some oomph, a tablespoon of water, an’ a tablespoon o’ softened butter. Jes’ throw it in the microwave t’ soften it up a bit. Don’t worry if it melts—you can add a couple pinches extra flour if it’s too soupy, buuuut I think you’ll be fine,” he winked.

“Last thing you need is a pinch of salt, then mix it up!” Hana grinned, “Jesse, can you do it like salt bae?”

“Salt bae?” Jesse asked.

“Yeah—you’re old, so you probably like old memes, right?” she grinned, taking a pinch of salt and sprinkling it into the bowl from high in the air, cascading down her forearm.

“Psh, kiddo, I remember the first memes,” McCree replied, taking a pinch of salt and following her form.

The frame froze and a filter was slapped on, a pair of clipart sunglasses dropping onto his face and a caption reading ‘SALT COWBAE’.

“Then you just mix it all up, right?” Hana asked, the video returning to normal.

“Yup—jes’ get in there with your spoon you’re gonna eat with and mix,” McCree smiled, calmly mixing while Hana moved a little more frantically and aggressively. “There’s enough dry ingredient in there that it shouldn’t leave much on the inside of yer bowl as you mix it up, like when yer makin’ a bread dough.”

“Aww, I won’t get to lick the bowl?”

“Well, I s’pose you can, but you’ll look awful silly lickin’ a clean bowl,” McCree laughed.

“Last time he made brownies, I got to lick the bowl,” she winked at the camera. “It pays to be on the crew!”

“There we go,” McCree smiled, holding up his bowl for the camera to see—a rich-looking lump of chocolate chip cookie dough sitting innocently inside an almost perfectly clean bowl. “All in all, this here cookie dough recipe takes ‘bout five minutes t’ make, if’n you count the time it takes to get all the ingredients out.

“Oh wow, this _is_ easy!” Hana grinned, pulling her spoon out and grinning at the lump of cookie dough clinging to it.

“Shall we taste?” McCree smiled.

“You bet!” Hana laughed taking a bite. “Mmmm! Wow, that’s pretty good!” she remarked, taking another bite, and another. “ _Really_ good!”

“See? Anybody can cook,” McCree smiled, “Even if ya spend hours an’ hours playin’ Starcraft.”

Hanzo smiled, the ease at which the two laughed and jabbed at one another like a soft, warm blanket. Jesse McCree was clearly a good man. Even if, by some odd coincidence, Jesse McCree _did_ speak Chinese, he wouldn’t judge Hanzo.

‘He’d probably pronounce it with an American accent, anyway,’ he reassured himself, sighing softly and pondering what he could add to cookie dough—he certainly didn’t have chocolate chips on hand…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Single-Serving No-Egg Cookie Dough  
> http://www.savoryexperiments.com/one-serving-cookie-dough/
> 
> **INGREDIENTS**
> 
> 1 tablespoon sugar  
> 1 tablespoon brown sugar  
> 1 tablespoon Chocolate chips or other add-ins  
> 4 tablespoon flour (more if your butter is melted)  
> 1 tablespoon butter softened  
> 1 tablespoon water  
> 1/8 teaspoon vanilla extract  
> Pinch of salt
> 
> **DIRECTIONS**
> 
>   1. Mix all ingredients in a medium-sized bowl until the dry ingredients have been fully incorporated with the wet ingredients. (This happens pretty quickly, about 30-60 seconds of hand mixing.)
>   2. Eat!
> 

> 
> (Note: Reader Ethan brought up and excellent point - If you're concerned about food safety and raw flour, you can pasteurize the flour for this recipe either in the oven on 'warm' for about 1 hour (much slower, but more even temps) or your microwave for 1 minute (much quicker, but you should verify the internal temp has reached 160 with a candy thermometer).)


	8. Chapter 8

Parking in town was usually a real pain, but churches usually had little problem obtaining parking space—and this temple was clearly an old converted church, in a neighborhood ripe for gentrification in the next few years. Pity, to see both poorer humans _and_ Omnics on course for getting pushed out of a neighborhood that was clearly catering to their needs. Hanzo clicked the lock on his Lexus and paused in front of the community announcement board, picking up one of the temple’s Omnic language flyers. Perhaps he’d drop it on Bastion’s desk tomorrow morning…

‘You’re not here to think about work, remember? You expressly came here to _not_ think about work.’  
‘Or cooking.’  
‘Right, or cooking.’  
‘Embarrassing yourself in front of McCree—’  
‘ _Not cooking!_ ’

The building itself was the pale yellow stucco that so many buildings in this part of the country seemed to have, and bore holes in the wall where a cross had formerly been bolted—now, small bird nests poked out of the holes, and the sparrows seemed perfectly at home regardless of who the rector was.

The interior was clean and white, with yellow banners and curtains giving the interior a permanent autumnal glow. A statue of an unidentified monk hovered a few paces inside; Hanzo knew the monk had no name and was not a representation of any particular figure, to discourage ego and promote the idea that any may obtain the state of unity with the Iris that the statue depicted.

Perhaps, Hanzo mused, it appeared more expressive to Omnics.

Bells jingled softly inside the temple, and the sensation of human presence filled the air. It was a Sunday morning—of course people would be at a temple. If it were anything like his temple back home, however, their service would just be ending after many long, silent hours of meditation. Indeed, as Hanzo quietly explored one of the hallways, a set of doors opened and the commotion of several humans and Omnics filled the common area.

It seemed to be a small, but friendly congregation, mostly young people and new-model Omnics; very few older models like Bastion survived the Crisis, after all, and even fewer wanted to keep those shapes after peace was finally struck. Domestic and service-industry Omnics had little to no involvement in the Crisis, so their chassis became particularly popular after the end of the Crisis—the ‘Enlightenment’, as Omnics called it. Right, that was the preferred English term. Hanzo spent so long musing on shapes and terms that he didn’t notice a particularly familiar form in the congregation.

“Anija!”

“G-Genji?” Hanzo sputtered, staring openly as Genji bounded over, looking unusually energetic considering the (relatively) early hour. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“This is my temple—what are _you_ doing here?” he asked, all smiles.

“I saw an advertisement,” Hanzo replied, his gaze drifting around the common area. “I didn’t know you followed the Shambali way.”

“I never cared for the incense back home,” Genji said, shrugging. “Too old-fashioned. I can see why you liked it, though,” he teased, elbowing Hanzo.

“I do not mock your path,” Hanzo frowned.

“I’m not mocking!” Genji smiled, holding up his hands. “You prefer something tried and true. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s why I’m so surprised to find you here—is there not a Buddhist temple near here for you?”

“Not Tendai, no,” Hanzo replied. “I…thought I would try something new.”

“Something new?” Genji chuckled softly, “I’m proud of you, Hanzo! Come, come, meet the master,” he said, tugging Hanzo along.

“Oh, no, no, I just want somewhere to meditate,” Hanzo replied, resisting Genji’s tug slightly. When Genji had his sights set on something, he went for it, regardless of Hanzo’s opinion.

“If you want to meditate in his temple, shouldn’t you speak to Master Zenyatta first?” Genji asked. Hanzo hesitated. Genji’s logic was relatively sound…

“…Is there someone a little…less important I could speak to first?” he asked, his tone pleading.

“Master Zenyatta is the only monk in residence here,” Genji replied. “This temple is rather new, and the congregation is quite small. Master!” he called, waving energetically toward a levitating Omnic; did Shambali monks always levitate? Do they have an aversion to touching the ground? Questions, surely rude and ignorant questions, raced through Hanzo’s mind. “Master, this is my brother!”

“Ah, a pleasure to finally meet you,” the Omnic said, his voice soothing, in spite of its tinniness. “My name is Zenyatta.”

“Sh-Shimada Hanzo,” he replied, bowing quickly, but deeply and with expert form. “It is an honor to meet a disciple of Mondatta.”

“You honor me by remembering him,” Zenyatta replied, his hands folding with a quiet ‘clink’. Hanzo bit the inside of his cheek; the shocking assassination of one of the most widely loved (and grudgingly respected) Omnic leaders was a major blow to human-Omnic relations, and had only made Bastion and Lena more determined in their work. A few moments of silence passed before Zenyatta’s head rose a few degrees, his hands relaxing. “Did Genji tell you about our temple?”

“Ah, no,” Hanzo replied, glancing over at his brother, who was beaming proudly. “I saw an advertisement…and it has been some time since I have visited a temple—and never a Shambali temple, forgive me if I am intruding.”

“Not at all,” Zenyatta replied, a smile in his voice. “What do you seek?”

“I…haven’t been able to find a temple to suit my needs since I came to this country,” Hanzo replied. It really had been a long time, hadn’t it…? “I need a place to meditate with…guidance,” he said—yes, that sounded perfectly tactful and adequate.

“Our ways are not yours, but in the Iris, all are brethren. All are welcome here. There is daily meditation at sunrise, and group teaching afterward on Sundays. You do not have to join in if you do not want to,” Zenyatta assured him.

“Thank you. I prefer meditating more privately,” Hanzo said, “Especially since I don’t know your customs. I would hate to embarrass myself,” he managed to laugh.

“We have private rooms for reflection, study and meditation,” Zenyatta said, gesturing down the hall. “Follow me, please.” He drifted down the hall in silence, only the slightest hum of electrical current emanating from his form. It was a pleasant frequency, at least—it probably helped with meditation, Hanzo mused.

“We often have human and Omnic disciples who wish to stay for a while and study, so we have rooms prepared,” Zenyatta explained. “Genji was my first live-in student.”

“I was playing guitar on the same shopping street,” Genji grinned, proud of his busking. “I lived with Master Zenyatta until I met Angela.”

“Here?” Hanzo asked, looking around.

“No, we were in an office park,” Zenyatta replied, his tone pleasant. “Technically, you are not supposed to live there.”

“Don’t tell him that, he’s a lawyer,” Genji laughed.

“Lawyers don’t arrest people, Genji,” Zenyatta murmured.

“Indeed, tell your lawyer everything,” Hanzo smirked. “Although I hesitate to call myself your lawyer.”

“But you’re my brother!” Genji whined, “Who else would I have as my lawyer?”

“Until you pay my retainer,” Hanzo began, elbowing Genji in a brotherly manner. He hesitated in any continued ribbing, however; they were still in the presence of a respected religious leader, after all. Zenyatta’s face was inexpressive by design, but the soft chuckle showed no irritation. He was used to dealing with Genji, too, after all.

“Would you like to visit our garden, perhaps?” Zenyatta offered, watching as Genji attempted to escalate the brotherly love. “It is a popular location for individual meditation and reflection.”

“Ah, yes, thank you,” Hanzo nodded, following the monk into a small courtyard. Though the area was restricted, there was a certain lush vibrancy to the space. A still pond stood in one corner, a few ambitious lotus buds ready to burst open early. Blue and purple hydrangeas made something of a privacy screen, the gentle perfume wafting through the air. Omnics didn’t smell things, did they? Hanzo had never asked—it seemed terribly rude to ask such a thing, but the scents of the garden made him wonder.

“It’s lovely…” Hanzo smiled, cautiously stepping out onto a gravel path.

“Perhaps it is what you need,” Zenyatta nodded, “Take your time. Genji, can you assist me?” he said, drifting away as Hanzo settled onto a patch of moss near the pond.

“With what, Master?” Genji asked, hurrying after him.

“Anything that I need assistance with,” he replied vaguely, luring him away from the garden.

* * *

“Alright, the beef’s gotta simmer fer pert near three hours now, so it’s time t’ work on the onions an’ mushrooms!” McCree said, smiling into the camera for a few seconds beyond what is natural. “Hoo, boy, this is a rough recipe,” he remarked, tossing his handtowel over his shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re not even half done, right?” Hana asked, pausing the camera.

“Nowhere near it.”

“This will probably be a two-parter then, huh?” Hana asked, leaning over and tapping at something on her laptop.

“Hell, even Julia Child took half an hour on her show,” McCree said, leaning back to pop his back. “My second shot at this, an’ it’s still rough. Lotta movin’ parts…no wonder folks usually jes’ make it in the crock pot,” he chuckled.

“When do you think you’re going to start the onions and mushrooms? I’ve gotta go to the little girls’ room,” Hana whined.

“Go on, darlin’, it ain’t gonna be a tight squeeze, time-wise,” he smiled, “I done sauteed mushrooms a million times.”

“Thanks—don’t touch the camera,” she warned, as always. “Oh, and have you seen the comments on the shopping video? It’s really blowing up.”

McCree watched Hana leave the kitchen with a confused expression on his face, wiping his hands on his towel before carefully skirting the camera and leaning down to peer at the screen.

 **SassyMomma  
** >omg DragonLord89 met Jesse?????????? jealous!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 **周美玲  
** >I shop at this market! I’ve never seen McCree there though D8  
>Maybe I should go more often!

 **GwenJones  
** >周美玲  
>OMG YOU LIVE IN THE SAME CITY AS jESSE mCcREE? sorry caps lock was on lol

 **BibbityBobbityBoo  
** >Has DragonLord89 been back in the comments yet?

 **Navy_Wife  
** >omg shes so lucky

 **xXWolfGrrlXx  
** >is DragonLord89 in the video?

 **IndiGoGoGirl  
** >Someone left the store at 3:26, could that be him?

 **Geekoroid  
** >IndiGoGoGirl  
>What makes you think it’s a him?

 **IndiGoGoGirl  
** >Geekoroid  
>Well, his screenname is DragonLORD, not DragonLady lol

 **Geekoroid  
** >IndiGoGoGirl  
>It could be her husband’s screenname, like mine?

 **SymmetryInMotion  
** >Men can enjoy cooking as well. DragonLord89 is unlikely to be a woman, based on their messages.

 **xXWolfGrrlXx  
** >Either way, they got a message back from Jesse and they go to the same market! SOOOO lucky!

McCree chuckled softly, shaking his head. Mr. Dragon-Lawyer was causing quite a stir.

‘If only they knew,’ he thought, glancing over his shoulder and pulling his phone out, casually checking his inbox. No reply from Mr. Shimada yet about the recipe or acknowledgments page…

‘Might as well credit him on the recipe, too, next to Manami,’ he decided, tapping out a quick note on his phone to update the credits before he went to print.

“I’m back,” Hana called, as if her presence wasn’t enough to indicate she was, in fact, back.

“Dang, deadline fer the cookbook sure is comin’ up quick, ain’t it?” McCree remarked, his beard twitching slightly as he looked at his calendar.

“Can’t delay it, crowdfunders get real short-tempered when you’re late,” Hana warned.

“I know, I know, I’m on schedule. _I am!_ ” he insisted at her incredulous look.

“Uh huh,” Hana smirked, crossing her arms. “It’s hard enough keeping you on a weekly update schedule. Alright, let’s cook some mushrooms,” she said, shooing him away from the tech setup.


	9. Chapter 9

Hanzo found himself in constant company at lunchtime, ever since discovering how many of his coworkers were fellow fans.

“Is anyone going to try that two-part recipe?” Mei asked, frowning slightly, “It looks so involved.”

“Boeuf bourguignon has a reputation for being particularly demanding, for a relatively simple dish,” Hanzo said. “The traditional recipe was developed by women who stayed in the home all day, so such attention could easily be given.”

“Chef Child’s recipe is very precise, as well,” Satya remarked, “It was haute cuisine in her day. McCree’s is much more forgiving in many aspects. He does not demand the bacon be precisely 1.5 inches long, for example.”

“I guess it’s more authentic and traditional that way,” Mei mused, “But still—it has to simmer for _hours…_ ”

“At least it keeps well,” Hanzo said, “For all the work that goes into it, you can eat it all week.”

“If you don’t mind eating the same thing for a week!” Mei laughed. Hanzo merely shrugged.

“Some people don’t mind,” he remarked. “I used to eat the same thing for almost every meal. And it wasn’t boeuf bourguignon, so it would still be new.”

“In any case, I won’t be making it,” Satya said. “Perhaps I will try coq au vin instead—it seems to have a much shorter cooking time, as well.” Hanzo toned in agreement.

“It does seem like a better choice for busy people,” Mei nodded. “Okay! New topic,” she smiled, “Who is DragonLord89?”

“Really, Mei, you haven’t had enough of that in the comments section yet?” Satya scoffed.

“People are still wondering!” she replied, “And besides, I’ve been getting a lot of messages, since DragonLord89 responded to one of my comments once.”

“Is that so?” Satya asked, failing to disguise her intrigue. “What did they say?”

“I was asking about the black sugar they recommended on the teriyaki episode. They basically said brown sugar was okay, too, is all. We didn’t have any other messages exchanged, but people are _really_ interested in him.”

“Oho, so you think it’s a man, too?” Satya asked.

“I thought you weren’t interested,” Mei teased.

“I never said _that_ ,” Satya smirked.

“Do you think it’s one of McCree’s friends?”

“I doubt it—after all, McCree first responded like he didn’t know who he was,” Satya began, “But McCree and Miss Hana recognized him at the store.”

“Maybe it’s one of her friends, then?”

“Possible…but unlikely,” Satya said, absentmindedly drawing circles in the leftover salad dressing in her bowl.

“Hanzo, what do you think?” Mei asked, turning to find an empty chair. She stared for a moment, dumbfounded. Hanzo didn’t normally leave so abruptly—it was uncharacteristically rude of him. Maybe he had run to the bathroom…?

Indeed, one of the stalls in the men’s room was barricaded shut, Hanzo’s feet bracing the door as if someone were going to follow him inside and batter down the door.

‘ _Oh my god people are looking for me_ _WHAT DO I DO?!_ ’

‘…Call your lawyer?’

The thought was enough to startle a short bark of laughter out of Hanzo—enough to distract him from that sudden panic.

So people were wondering who he was—no big deal. So far, only McCree and his team knew who he was, and he must not have been on camera. Knowing he was a lawyer, there’s no way McCree would have posted a video of him without getting express permission, after all. Right? Right.

‘And besides—you know things they don’t. You know Satya and Mei from the comments, but they don’t know you. You’re still a step ahead.’

His heart rate had returned to normal by the time he returned to his office, sitting down heavily and scanning his inbox. A new direct message had come in from Satya—that was odd.

> _What’s wrong, DragonLord89? ;)_

Even the emoticon didn’t stop his stomach from dropping. ‘…Okay, maybe we’re not a step ahead of _her_.’

He leaned forward, quickly tapping out a reply.

>> _If you tell anyone, I can and will win on a self-defense plea._

> _I have no doubt. Your secret is safe with me._

Hanzo frowned, sliding down in his office chair and glaring at the monitor. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Satya, but he somehow doubted his secret was safe at all.

* * *

 

Hanzo sighed as he slumped down onto his couch, staring at the new video that McCree had uploaded that day. On the one hand, he knew that McCree’s handsome face and soothing voice would cheer him up, but on the other hand, knowing that so many people were apparently interested in him kind of dampened his interest. Hanzo was a private man; he didn’t want knowledge of his hobby to spread so far and wide…

He sighed, tapping ‘play’. Hanzo wanted that warmth, that comfort, that relaxed friendship. It was silly, claiming friendship with someone he had never actually met in person, and he knew that. But it didn’t stop him from watching.

“Any time y’all request a beef recipe, you set my cowboy heart a-flutterin’. Lucky me, y’all sent in a bunch fer me t’ use fer the Chuckwagon Challenge!”

“This week’s challenge recipe is for these,” he said, holding up a basket of what looked to be large, fluffy dinner rolls. “Looks like a tasty roll, don’t it? But it’s got a surprise,” he grinned, picking one up and carefully pulling it apart to reveal a beef filling. Hanzo’s eyes lit up—nikuman! He hadn’t had really good nikuman or bao in so long…

“This here’s an ol’ German classic called a Bierock, a mess-free sandwich stuffed full of beef an’ cabbage. They were invented back in the old country so farmers an’ laborers could carry their lunch with ‘em without havin’ to worry about nothin’ fallin’ out of their sandwiches while they worked. They’re real popular in the Midwest, but I’d never had one ‘til y’all asked me for ‘em! The other place they’re popular is durin’ Oktoberfest—maybe that’ll be my first food tour,” he winked, a hashtag ‘#SendMcCreeToOktoberfest’ popping up on the bottom of the screen for a moment.

“The only drawback t’ this here recipe is that I gotta do more baking, but lucky me, I’ve got a real good dough recipe fer a meal like this! Y’all should probably start his here recipe out in yer kitchen mixer, but I’m gonna try t’ keep it easy on the eyes,” he winked.

“First, we wanna warm up our milk an’ mix in the melted butter, then whisk in yer sugar an’ wait ‘til it’s cool enough fer yer yeast. I generally mix it in at ‘bout 100, 105 degrees, jes’ t’ be safe—I’m a brown thumb when it comes to yeast,” he pouted. “Took me three takes ‘fore I got my yeast t’ bloom on camera! Once it’s cool enough, sprinkle in the dry yeast and let it bloom for five, ten minutes, an’ then mix it in and add in half of yer flour to start.”

“Next, we’re gonna beat an egg an’ add it to our dough—it’ll give our bread a rich, tender texture, an’ help it fluff up an’ get nice an’ brown in the oven. Challah an’ brioche an’ madelines are nice eggy breads, too, an’ I _love_ ‘em. So we wanna whisk in these eggs, an’ add in salt while we work. Now would be a good time t’ get out my mixer,” he grinned, pulling out a heavy kitchen mixer—clean, but obviously well-loved and heavily used.

“Now that I’m all squared away, we can start slowly adding flour until the dough comes together. Take it slow, there ain’t no rush,” he instructed, keeping the mixer speed low so his voice wasn’t drowned out. “When it’s ready, it’ll be jes’ a bit sticky, but it shouldn’t stick too much to the side of yer bowl. If’n you get good results with it, swap out fer yer dough hook an’ start kneadin it. But as much as I love my mixer, I ain’t never got my dough hook t’ make good bread, so I use my hands.”

“Now, we’ll be kneadin’ fer about 15 minutes, so maybe find somethin’ to watch, an’ then come on back t’ finish up. Maybe, oh, one of these episodes,” he grinned, pointing up in the air where video links appeared, “Then once it’s nice an’ smooth, we’ll turn it a few tines in a greased bowl, then cover it up and leave it to rise fer ‘bout an hour. But don’t go away! You’ve got a filling to make!”

The camera cut to his stove, where hamburger, onions, sauerkraut and cabbage were ready to be prepared.

“First thing’s first, we’ve gotta brown our meat. You want it lean—unless it’s a Southwestern recipe, I usually go fer about a 90/10 mix, since nobody likes wastin’ a fifth o’ their money on fat you gotta drain away while yer cookin’,” McCree explained, dumping the meat into a pan, “But goin’ up to 95/5 gets yer beef dried up and keeps it from pickin’ up any herbs an’ spices you might be usin’—the moisture picks up goodies like salt an’ pepper, an’ when yer makin’ recipes with peppers, the fat absorbs those compounds that carries the flavor an’ heat. That’s why I always recommend 80/20 on my Tex Mex recipes,” he smiled, casually breaking up the beef with his wooden spoon as he talked. “But this ain’t a heavily spiced recipe, so we’ll take the happy medium.”

“Now, since we’re gonna be puttin’ this inside bread, y’ wanna make sure you drain the beef real well once it’s browned—if it’s too wet goin’ in the oven, the bottom of yer rolls’ll get all soggy an’ they’ll fall apart when y’ try to take ‘em out,” he explained, draining the grease out into an old can next to the sink. “If yer pan’s heavy, an’ it should be a good weight fer brownin’ meat evenly, you might wanna scoop the meat into a metal colander t’ drain, then drain the pan out separate ‘fore you put the meat back in.

“Once yer meat’s back in the pan, add in the diced onions an’ cook ‘em all together for another couple of minutes—ain’t nothin’ worse than bitin’ into some uncooked onion, so make sure it’s nice an’ soft,” he explained, carefully stirring the onions and beef. “Then we’ll add our cabbage an’ our sauerkraut, an’ cook it all together ‘til the cabbage gets tender. It’ll be a bit translucent at that point, so keep an eye out for that. Then, set it on aside an’ give it a touch of seasoning,” he said, giving the pan a few cracks of pepper and sea salt.

“But now, it’s time to check our dough,” he said with excitement. “Now, your dough should look about like this after an hour of risin’,” McCree said, holding up a bowl of dough. “Now the fun part—we get to knock it back,” he explained, punching the dough and watching it collapse like a balloon. “Dust up yer hands a bit an’ turn the dough a bit, to get rid of any big air bubbles, then dump it out on yer counter an’ it’s time to work.”

“Divide it up into balls and flatten it out ‘til you got circles ‘bout as big as yer hand. Hopefully, yer dough don’t spring back too much when ya flatten it out; if it does, let it sit an’ think about what it did fer a few minutes ‘fore ya work it again,” he winked, rolling out balls of dough and flattening them with a wooden rolling pin that looked like an antique—maybe, Hanzo thought, it had been his mother’s? Hell, it looked old enough to be his grandmother’s. Clearly, it had seen quite a lot of use.

“Then we start adding in our filling,” he grinned. “Get yer slotted wooden spoons an’ make sure what you scoop out ain’t soggy. Scoop up some filling an’ put it in the middle of yer dough, then pinch it closed. You can make ‘em round, square, crescent-shaped, it’s up t’ you. I’m makin’ mine round, jes’ cause it’s easy, but different shapes are popular in different places,” he explained, carefully squeezing and pinching the dough ball shut. “Then, scoop it up real careful-like an’ put it seam-side down onto yer baking sheet,” he explained, gently laying the dough ball down on top of some parchment paper.

“Make sure you give each one plenty o’ space, ‘cause we’re gonna let ‘em rise again. This’ll give you that bakery-fine crumb that homemade bread usually don’t get if’n you only let it quick rise once. It’ll make yer rolls nice an’ rich, since a second rise lets the flavor develop more. But it’ll be a lot shorter—maybe only half an hour or so, ‘til they get ‘bout one and a half times the size y’ left ‘em at. Make sure yer oven’s preheated, give ‘em a quick egg wash or milk wash t’ get that nice golden brown on the top, an’ pop ‘em in the oven.”

When McCree pulled his tray out of the oven, the rolls looked professionally made. Hanzo started to doubt McCree’s claims about his baking skills as he stared at the perfectly round, rustic brown rolls.

“Now, there’s all sorts of ways you can change up this basic recipe—swap out some of yer beef fer Italian sausage, add a bay leaf or a little vinegar or beer when yer brownin’ the meat, maybe add a little bed of cheddar before you put the filling in yer dough, have fun with it! In Nebraska an’ Kansas, folks eat bierocks jes’ like burgers, so you can dress yers up with the same toppin’s you’d use fer a hamburger.

“But fer now, I think I’m gonna kick back with a nice cold brew an’ enjoy,” he grinned. As promised, his usual glass of iced tea was gone from his outro, replaced instead with a tall, frosty glass of beer and his basket of bierocks.

It wasn’t exactly nikuman as Hanzo knew it—he’d never seen _baked_ nikuman, after all, but even he had to admit that the rich brown crust looked much more appetizing than the rather anemic dough he was used to seeing.

Surely, he could cook pork the same way, add some soy sauce, remove the sauerkraut and replace it with mushrooms and green onions…after all, McCree encouraged him to ‘have fun’ with the recipe. Perhaps he would have German-style nikuman tomorrow—or would it be Japanese-style bierocks? Either way, it sounded like just the thing he needed: comfort food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bierocks
> 
> https://www.curiouscuisiniere.com/bierocks/
> 
> **INGREDIENTS**
> 
> **Dough:**
> 
> 1 c milk   
> 2 Tbsp butter   
> ¼ c white sugar   
> 2 ¼ tsp (1 pkg) active dry yeast   
> 4 c flour   
> 1 egg, beaten   
> ¾ tsp salt
> 
> **Filling:**  
>   
>  ½ lb lean ground beef (80% or better)   
> ½ onion, diced (1/2 c)   
> 1 ½ c shredded cabbage  
> 1 ½ c sauerkraut (for a milder meal, replace with more cabbage)  
> ¼ tsp salt   
> ¼ tsp black pepper
> 
>  
> 
> **DIRECTIONS:**
> 
> **Dough:**
> 
>   1. Place milk and butter in a large bowl. Microwave for 30 seconds at a time until butter has melted.
>   2. Add sugar and whisk to dissolve. Whisk the mixture until it has cooled to between 100F and 110F. (Liquid over 110F will instantly kill the yeast.)
>   3. Sprinkle yeast over the milk mixture and let set 5-10 minutes, until yeast softens and starts to foam. Whisk mixture to combine and whisk in 2 c of flour.
>   4. Add egg and salt. Whisk to incorporate.
>   5. Stir in remaining flour ¼ c at a time until the dough comes together. Turn dough onto your counter and knead, 10-15 min, until a soft, smooth dough forms, adding flour as needed. (Your finished dough should be tacky, but not stick to your hand or your kneading surface.)
>   6. Shape dough into a round; place it in a greased bowl, turning to coat the dough. Cover the dough loosely with plastic wrap or a damp towel and place in a warm, draft-free place to rise until doubled in bulk, about 1 hour.
> 

> 
> **Filling:**
> 
>   1. While the dough rises, make your filling. In a large non-stick frying pan, brown meat over medium high until mostly cooked, 5-7 min.
>   2. Drain as much of the grease from the pan as you can, while not losing the meat from the pan. Return the pan to the heat and add onions. Cook 2-3 min, until they begin to soften.
>   3. Add cabbage and sauerkraut and cook 7-10 minutes, until cabbage is tender.
>   4. Remove filling from heat and season with salt and pepper.
> 

> 
> **Assembly:**
> 
>   1. Knock back the risen dough and turn onto your work surface.
>   2. Divide dough into 8 balls (roughly 3 oz each). Flatten each ball to a circle 4-5” in diameter. (If the dough springs back, flatten as much as you can, cover, and let the dough rest for 3-5 min before attempting to flatten further.)
>   3. Spoon 2 large tablespoons of filling onto the center of each circle, leaving the edges clear. Bring the edges together and pinch them to seal the dough completely. Continue until all the dough and filling has been used.
>   4. Place the shaped bierocks on a greased baking sheet and let rise, covered 30-45 min, until roughly 1.5x their original size.
>   5. During the last 10 minutes of rising time preheat your oven to 375F.
>   6. Brush the bierocks lightly with egg wash or milk and bake for 20-25 min, until golden brown and hollow sounding when tapped.
>   7. Remove from oven and let cool on a wire rack.
> 



	10. Chapter 10

_Dear Cooking Cowboy,_

_I apologize for not responding to your e-mail sooner. I appreciate that you have reached out to me for my legal opinion on the matter of crediting me, and I am happy to provide my opinion pro bono._  
_If and when you wish to credit me for my suggestion, please take care not to link my screen name (DragonLord89) with my legal name. A screen name, stage name, initials, placeholder name or other alias is considered legally acceptable in such a situation, even as identification in legal papers up to the Supreme Court, especially if the party in question wishes to keep their legal name or identity secret for reasons including age, protection against retaliation, and fear of embarrassment or stigmatization (see Jane Roes 1-2 v. SFBSC Mgmt., LLC; D.B. v. Ingham; Roe v. Wade; et al.). I do not foresee a situation where I might demand a portion of the royalties, and as such any legal scenario is purely hypothetical, of course._  
_This e-mail constitutes written consent to my name and screen name being used in the ways so outlined._

_Sincerely,_  
_Hanzo Shimada._

_P.S. I greatly enjoyed the recipe for Bierocks, and adapted it to resemble Japanese nikuman . It was wonderful! It reminded me so much of winters back home._

_ Hanzo Shimada _  
_Attorney at Law_  
_Morrison & Reyes, LLP_  
_ 島田半蔵| 弁護士_  
_モリソン・レイエス法律事務所_

* * *

_Dear Mr. Shimada,_

_Thank you for your response. Don’t worry, I wasn’t waiting too long!_  
_I’d be happy to credit you as ‘DragonLord89’ on the recipe page, and include either your screen name or legal name in the Acknowledgments page (names are going to be listed alphabetically, which should be enough to disassociate them from screen names or recipes and avoid claims of favoritism , lol)._  
_If you have another preference, don’t hesitate to let me know._

_Sincerely,_  
_Jesse McCree_

_P.S. I’m glad you liked them, darlin! Cooking is a great way to be creative, and always brings back such great memories for me, too. If I may ask, what changes did you make?_

_Jesse McCree_  
_The Cooking Cowboy_  
_ YouTube | Instagram | Facebook_

* * *

_Dear Cooking Cowboy,_

_That will be perfectly acceptable, and I would have no objection to my legal name being on the Acknowledgments page. Thank you for being so understanding._

_Sincerely,_  
_Hanzo Shimada._

_P.S. I blended the 90/10 beef you recommended with pork belly, and replaced the cabbage and sauerkraut with shiitake mushrooms and ginger. I sauteed the filling in my teriyaki sauce, and added oyster sauce to taste. Usually, nikuman are steamed, but I always thought that made them look undercooked, so I used your dough recipe and baked it, with a sprinkle of sea salt on top since it reminded me so much of a pretzel. Eating such a fusion reminded me very much of America as a whole._

_-Hanzo_

* * *

_Dear Mr. Shimada,_

_I’ve just confirmed my final proof with my printers, and will have my first run of cookbooks printed and delivered to me within 4 weeks. As you are a contributor, I would be happy to hold a copy aside for you._

_Sincerely,_  
_Jesse McCree_

_P.S. That sounds amazing! I’m so proud that you’re exploring and experimenting with the recipes I’ve presented! I hope I’m not being too forward, but I would love to try what you’ve cooked._

_-Jesse_

* * *

_Dear Cooking Cowboy,_

_If it would not be any trouble, I would be very grateful for a copy of your cookbook. Unfortunately, I missed your crowdfunding campaign, but would be willing to pay the listed price._

_Sincerely,_  
_Hanzo Shimada_

_P.S. Oh no, my cooking is nowhere near as skillful as yours! It’s just a hobby for me, but for you, it’s your passion and life’s work! It is precisely your passion and enthusiasm that lead me to experiment, but I wouldn’t dare present anything I’ve cooked so far to be judged by you._

_-Hanzo_

* * *

_Dear Mr. Shimada,_

_There is no need to pay for a copy. I know you said you provided your legal expertise pro bono, but perhaps the book will cover the cost of your professional advice._

_Sincerely,_  
_Jesse McCree_

_P.S. Oh darlin, there’s no judgment here! Cooking isn’t a competition for me, but a way of bringing people together. Growing up on the family ranch, the one thing that brought everyone together after a hard day’s work was supper—if even a touch of that warmth and love has come out of my videos and into your cooking, then it’s perfect. But if you’re worried about performance anxiety, I’d be happy to cook for you instead. :)_

_-Jesse_

* * *

_Dear Cooking Cowboy,_

_After looking up the list price on Amazon, I can say with confidence that your cookbook would not cover the cost of my legal advice according to my usual hourly rate._  
_But it will exactly cover the cost of my standard YouTube Cooking Show Legal Advice. ;)_

_Sincerely,_  
_Hanzo Shimada_

_P.S. I wouldn’t dream of forcing you to cook in my office kitchen—or asking you to take time out of your busy schedule to cook for me. Surely, that must have been a top tier backer reward or something?_

_-Hanzo_

* * *

_Dear Mr. Shimada,_

_Excellent!_  
_Shall I mail it to your office address, or deliver it by hand?_

_Sincerely,_  
_Jesse McCree_

_P.S. Please ask me to deliver it by hand—I love meeting fans, and even if all we did was go for coffee, I’d love to talk face to face. (And don’t call me Shirley! ;)_

_-Jesse_

* * *

Hanzo’s mouse hesitated over the ‘send’ button for only a moment, his heart skipping a beat as he clicked.

_Dear Cooking Cowboy,_

_Please deliver it by hand. I believe you have my office address._

_Sincerely,_  
_Hanzo Shimada_

_P.S. Coffee sounds wonderful :)_

Hanzo stared at the screen for a few more moments, until ‘message sent’ disappeared, before rising from his desk and trying to walk down the hall as casually as possible, knocking on the frame of Satya’s door. All of the offices had modern, light-gray walls except for hers, which was cool white. Everything was perfectly aligned and positioned and paired, shiny white and polished chrome and subtly translucent. The only two things in the room that didn’t have a mate were Satya herself and a large, well-decorated fish tank with a few curious puffer fish exploring the plants and hunting snails and shrimp.

“Can I help you?” Satya asked, her tone curt until she glanced up at her uninvited guest. “Oh! Hanzo, what is it?”

“I—” he began, his voice unexpectedly raspy, “I think I just scheduled a date?”

“A date,” she repeated after a moment, attempting to prompt him into speaking again, “With whom?”

“With—with McCree,” he whispered. Satya stood, eyes wide.

“So…DragonLord89 has been in recent contact with Jesse McCree?” she asked after a moment, a little smile on her lips. “The comment section will love to hear this.”

“Don’t tease me,” Hanzo frowned, stepping into the office and lowering his voice. “He wants to give me a copy of his cookbook…and he wants to deliver it personally,” he murmured.

“Seeing as he is local, that is logical,” Satya nodded.

“And we agreed to get coffee when he delivers it,” he added, his cheeks warming.

“Then yes, you have scheduled a date,” she said.

“But—what do I do?” Hanzo asked, slightly desperate, “It’s been years since I’ve been on a date—a-and never with a man,” he added, his ears burning bright.

“I am not the correct person to ask for dating advice,” Satya replied, frowning slightly. “I do not date. I would suggest that you ask Lena, but she also does not date men, so her advice might be limited in its use,” Satya frowned. “Perhaps Amélie would be a better choice?”

“She’s been married for a while,” Hanzo frowned, crossing his arms, “Not to say her advice would be out-of-date, or anything. And...I feel like I might need advice from a man’s perspective.”

“Torbjörn, then?”

“ _Definitely_ out-of-date,” Hanzo chuckled.

“Gabriel?”

“I am not going to ask my _boss_ for dating advice!” Hanzo whispered, his flush creeping below his collar. He glanced out the door to make sure Mr. Reyes didn’t happen to pass by at that moment. Wouldn’t that have just been perfect…

“Then that eliminates Jack, as well,” Satya frowned. “Perhaps you’ll just have to ask outside of the office?”

Hanzo frowned as well. Who could he even turn to for advice? Genji? He had dated plenty of people, but the idea of asking his brother for _dating advice_ was enough to make him want to throw himself off a bridge. Angela? But she was dating Genji—her taste was obviously compromised. Zenyatta? ‘Did you just seriously consider asking a monk for romantic advice?’

“In any case, it will be some time before his cookbook comes out, won’t it?” Satya asked, resting her hand elegantly beneath her chin, “So you will have time to consult and prepare.”

“That’s true,” Hanzo nodded, taking a breath. He had a month—no reason to panic.

* * *

Four weeks can fly by surprisingly quickly, especially when one is a lawyer. Four contract translations and reviews were finally wrapped up, two more English translations were on Jack’s desk for review and Hanzo had managed to smooth over a major misunderstanding between an American firm and their Japanese ceramic component manufacturing contractor, and had been treated to a five-star dinner with a hero’s welcome for his efforts. All in all, a highly productive month.

Hanzo was happily organizing that day’s groceries (the final Cooking Cowboy challenge recipe had been paella, and it sounded like a delightful reward for his hard work) when another alert sounded on his phone.

_‘Jesse McCree_  
_Lunch appointment – date/time?’_

His heart skipped a beat in a not entirely unpleasant way, and he quickly opened the new e-mail.

_Dear Mr. Shimada,_

_My first print run has arrived, and I have your cookbook set aside. If you have time this week, I would love to deliver it to you and have coffee or lunch. You can choose the location; I’m sure you know quite a few good places for business lunches and such._

_Sincerely,_  
_Jesse McCree_

_P.S. I’m really looking forward to finally meeting you in person—I hope that doesn’t sound weird, lol._

Hanzo’s cheeks flushed, and a moment of shocked panic overtook him as he switched apps.

_> Genji, I have a date this week—help!_

He regretted messaging Genji almost immediately, a heavy sight leaving him as he heard the Line alert ding.

_> >wwwwwww_

Well that was helpful—Hanzo wasn’t sure what else he had expected. A few moments later, he received another message, almost entirely in kana.

_> >wait, r u serious?_

_> Of course I’m serious! Why else would I Line you?!_

_> >ahahahaha_  
_ >>wen was the last time u went on a date even_

_> Not since college. Why, when did you last do something nice for Angela?_

_> >sssssh im planning sumthin rly special 4 her bday_

_> That’s nice. :)_  
_ >Now are you going to help me or not?_

_> >www what do u need?_

_> They want to go for a nice lunch_

_> >aww so 1st date then_

_> How could you tell?_

_> >1 u dont no were 2 go_  
_ >>2 u havent said anything b4 this_  
_ >>3 ur a dork n u dont date_

_> You know what never mind, I’m calling Angela to ask for help and I’m spoiling your surprise_

_> >NO_  
_ >>NO DONT_  
_ >>PLS_

Hanzo’s screen was almost immediately filled with a dozen emojis and animated ‘orz’ icons. Hanzo smirked—victory.

_> >ok ok_  
_ >>go someplace like a cafe w/ a nice outdoor area_  
_ >>but let her pick inside/outside_  
_ >>order something expensive _  
_ >>u can afford it_  
_ >>then she wont worry about if she orders somethin $$$_  
_ >>she knows ur a lawyer rite? women like knowing u can pay $$$$$$$$_

Hanzo hesitated—would Genji’s advice change depending on the gender of his date? He wasn’t exactly out of the closet to anyone…let alone family. He took a deep breath and responded.

_> He knows._

Hanzo added a little man emoji for good measure—it seemed to be Genji’s preferred mode of communication, anyway.

_> >whoa rly???_  
_ >>ur seeing a guy???????_  
_ >>ok_  
_ >>nvm go to a pub_  
_ >>somewhere w/ craft beer n a good menu_  
_ >>n then @ the end u can say_  
_ >>’hey boy y dont we come back here sometime_  
_ >>wen we can try sum more beers? ;)’_  
_ >>(do gay ppl say ‘boy’ like str8 ppl say ‘gurl’? idk)_  
_ >>neway_  
_ >>boom then theres ur 2nd date ez_

Hanzo couldn’t quite explain what his stomach was doing as he watched Genji’s messages roll in. Was…was Genji actually giving him mostly serious advice? Had he _ever_ done that before?

_> Why are you giving me good advice? Are you ill? Should I call Angela to have you looked at?_

_> >wwww_  
_ >>like u said_  
_ >>u havent been on a date since college_  
_ >>its gross 2 think about my bro that way_  
_ >>but sum1 needs 2 get u laid_  
_ >>since u aint doin it urself_  
_ >>wwwwwwwww_

Ah, there was the brother he knew and tolerated. He’d begun writing a scathing brotherly message in response when he faltered. This…this wouldn’t be a date like _that_. He certainly wasn’t going to…to _sleep_ with Jesse McCree…!

‘Not over your lunch break, you’re not.’

‘No, definitely not—don’t panic.’

‘That’s supposed to be for the third date, right?’

‘Right. Wait—what?’

_> >werd u meet him neway?_  
_ >>y not go there_  
_ >>unless its the courthouse wwwwwwww_

_> Ha ha. Even I know not to take a date to the courthouse._  
_ >I met him online._

_> >y am I not surprised_  
_ >>id say b urself_  
_ >>but I kno u_

Hanzo was about ready to microwave his phone—Genji was back to being Genji after all.

_> >i no u get all stressed out_  
_ >>try 2 meditate b4 u go_  
_ >>relax_  
_ >>u can be fun wen ur not all freaked out about stuff_  
_ >>may b have a beer rite away_  
_ >>u drink @ business lunches rite?_  
_ >>they did on mad men_

_> Genji, that is a TV show._  
_ >But yes, you are allowed to drink a little at a business lunch._

_> >then ur fine 2 go back 2 work after_  
_ >>get there early_  
_ >>loosen up_  
_ >>n be the fun u_  
_ >>not lawyer u_  
_ >>or panic attack u_  
_ >>or ‘im gonna call angela’ u_

Hanzo sighed, setting the phone aside as Genji’s sentence fragments continued to come through. At least _some_ of the advice seemed solid. There were quite a few pubs relatively close to the office; they were a favorite when Jack or Gabriel got to choose the location for the lunch, and they seemed to be big hits with the clients, as well—although Jack and Gabe had a knack for pairing clients with restaurants.

He took a breath and picked up his phone again, quickly perusing a map of downtown before returning to his inbox.

_Dear Cooking Cowboy,_

He hesitated again, biting his lip and backspacing.

_Dear Jesse,_

_There are a few pubs with excellent menus and a variety of international beers within a few minutes of the firm. If you are available Wednesday at noon, we would be able to have a long lunch and sample a few unique brews while we talk._  
_Please let me know if this time works for you._

_Sincerely,_  
_Hanzo Shimada_

_P.S. I’m excited, too! I’ve never met one of my favorite celebrities before. :)_

 

He sent the e-mail and released a breath, half collapsing against the counter. This anticipation was going to kill him. He took a moment to compose himself before turning back to his supper, beginning to sort the ingredients again.

* * *

“Ohmygod—Hana!” McCree cried, holding his phone out. “He called me Jesse this time!”

“Hmm, he’s taking you to a bar?” Hana mused, reading over the message. “Logic would say he’s thirsty, but it’s the middle of the day—I don’t know what to make of that.”

“It ain’t a bar, it’s a _pub_ ,” McCree corrected. “Food, a casual atmosphere, we’ll have a few beers an’ talk.”

“And then what? He goes back to work and you come back here and film an episode? What kind of date is that?” she pouted, crossing her arms. “See if you can reschedule for dinner. I mean, there’s no way you’ll get a first kiss in the middle of the afternoon—that’s a ‘good night’ gesture.”

“Hana, darlin’, I know full well about kissin’,” he chuckled. “I been kissin’ boys pro’lly longer than you have.”

“Psh, no you haven’t,” she replied, handing his phone back, “You’ve been single for ages, and _I_ have a boyfriend,” she said with a slight bragging tone.

“Well I _started_ kissin’ boys a long time ago, anyway,” McCree frowned, though mischief still shone in his eyes. “Jes’ hope I don’t come on too strong…”

“Just be your usual charming cowboy self,” Hana smiled, dusting off his shoulders. “And try to get a few selfies with him—he’s sooo handsome,” she grinned.

* * *

“And you’re _sure_ you can cover for me?” Hanzo asked, trying to tuck his bangs behind his ear for the fifth time as he walked down the hall.

“Yes, of course,” Satya replied, just as patient as the first time he had asked on Monday. From the firm’s end, it would be just like any other business lunch. And strictly speaking, Hanzo _had_ volunteered pro bono work on behalf of McCree, so _technically_ , he was meeting with a client. That was what they had agreed was, in fact, the truth—though Hanzo still seemed to be practicing those facts in his mind.

“And you won’t tell Mei?”

“I won’t tell Mei,” Satya smiled, but the sardonic quirk of her lip suggested she was sorely tempted.

“Oh! Mr. Shimada! Ms. Vaswani!” Winston quickly stashed his jar of peanut butter behind the reception desk and sat up straight. “Going out for lunch?”

“I’m having lunch with a client,” Hanzo replied, still forced to crane his neck to look the gorilla in the eye, even when he was seated.

“I’m just walking him to the door,” Satya smiled. Winston pondered why Hanzo could possibly need a chaperone, but only for a moment.

“I’ll hold any messages for you until you get back,” Winston smiled. “How long do you expect you’ll be?”

“An hour, at least,” Hanzo replied, his gaze flicking to the clock on the wall. 11:55—he could feel his heart pounding as each second ticked by. “Possibly longer, if things go well.”

“You got it,” he added, flashing a bit of tooth in a wider smile—he’d been practicing keeping a more subdued affect with visitors, but the lawyers had long gotten over the shock of their receptionist. After all, not many legal firms had _scientists_ working at the front desk.

“Good luck,” Satya smiled, patting Hanzo on the shoulder and nudging him out the door.

The hall in front of the elevator bank was unsettlingly quiet. He nervously checked his watch, jumping as he heard the elevator begin to move.

‘He’s coming!’

‘It could be someone going to a different floor—’

But of course, the car stopped at the third floor.

_‘He’s coming!’_

‘Calm down—it could just be a client,’ he thought desperately as the doors slid open, his heart jumping into his throat as the lone figure stepped out, his smile like sunshine and his eyes full of warmth.

“Howdy,” McCree smiled, holding a rough-worn hand out, “So glad to finally meet you in person, Mr. Shimada.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'w' (笑) is the Japanese equivalent of 'lol'


	11. Chapter 11

Hanzo could feel his brain overheating as he stood in front of Jesse McCree, in the flesh. The first coherent thought that dislodged from the gears was ‘He’s so tall’, followed by a cascade of other observations.

‘His smile is so sweet—’  
‘Look at his eyes!’  
‘His hand is close to me’  
‘Does he smell like _that_? Or is he wearing cologne?’  
‘ _He’s so tall!_ ’  
‘Of course he really dresses like this—’  
‘ _SHAKE HIS HAND TOUCH HIM_ ’  
‘ _ohmigod I’m going to touch Jesse McCree—!’_

“I-I’m glad to finally meet you, as well,” he managed, some hint of professionalism finally managing to work itself free, preventing him from simply collapsing into a pile of embarrassment in front of his office. His heart nearly stopped as he placed his hand in Jesse’s, heat creeping into his ears. He was hardly managing coherent thoughts anymore—McCree’s hand was as rough as he’d expected, his grip firm but sweet, and his hand was so warm and large and _what would it feel like cupping his cheek_ _oh god get a grip_ _—_

“So,” McCree smiled, giving his hand a few firm shakes, “You picked someplace fer us to eat at?” he asked, adjusting the book under his arm.

“Ah, yes, this way please,” Hanzo said, gesturing back toward the elevator. For once, he wasn’t able to berate himself for acting like a lovesick fool—his brain was still too busy spinning out of control at the mere presence of McCree. Tall, dark and handsome, and with a smile just as warm as on YouTube…he could feel his heart trying to burst out of his chest as they rode down a few floors. It was only about 15 seconds, but he could die a happy man.

“We takin’ yer car, or mine?” McCree asked as the door opened behind them.

“Mine is fine,” Hanzo replied, digging in his pocket for his keys. “My parking space is reserved, after all—no chance of losing it.”

“Heh, good point,” McCree smiled, whistling lowly as the headlights for a nearby black Lexus flashed on. “Now if that ain’t a lawyer car, I don’t know what is,” he remarked, carefully skirting around the bumper as if it were a priceless artifact.

“Well…your truck suits you, as well,” Hanzo remarked, smiling as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“They say pets look like their owners—wonder if’n that works fer cars, as well,” McCree mused, folding his legs into the front seat somewhat awkwardly.

“Ah! Y-You can move the seat back, it’s fine!” Hanzo blurted, “I-I don’t usually have passengers,” he added, laughing awkwardly.

“That’s too bad,” McCree replied, fiddling with the side of the seat and shooting backward several inches. “Much better,” he smiled. “So! Where we eatin’?”

* * *

Hanzo had felt silly making a reservation at a pub, but strolling through downtown at lunchtime and seeing packed restaurants and cafes reassured him that he’d made the right choice.

McCree’s face lit up as they turned into a pub with a very classic English-influenced exterior, with a wooden sign hanging over the sidewalk reading ‘The Emerald Boar’, the dark green paint perfectly accented with shiny brass. “Hoo, lucky me,” he grinned, “I love this place.”

“You’ve been here before?” Hanzo asked, trying to keep himself from looking crestfallen. Of course he would have already been here—McCree was an experienced connoisseur, why wouldn’t he have eaten in all sorts of restaurants? Especially someplace known for it’s beer selection…

“Yeah—funny, if you’d asked me to pick a place fer lunch, I’d probably have picked this place,” he smiled, a broad hand coming to rest at the small of Hanzo’s back, “Great minds, huh?”

Hanzo’s cheeks warmed at the touch and the little compliment, and he hurriedly glanced away, grinning like an idiot. Any cynical, self-critical voice lingering in his mind had apparently joined on the ‘oh my God Jesse McCree is touching me’ bandwagon, for now. It was a nice change, even if his heart was pounding hard enough to make him feel slightly ill.

“Well…shall we sit?” Hanzo asked, gesturing toward the bar and sliding onto a stool. Unlike many of the other restaurants and cafes, the Emerald Boar was quiet; a few students tapped away at their term papers with half a pizza next to them, and the TV was turned to BBC Sport to show that night’s Arsenal game. From the relatively sleepy atmosphere, it was clear that the pub usually hewed closer to Genji’s hours of operation than his own.

“You know what you wanna drink?” McCree asked, settling on his stool as easily as if he lived there.

“I…” Hanzo hesitated, his eyes flicking along the many bottles on display along the bar. “…To be honest, Jesse, I don’t often drink beer,” he said, his ears burning as he used the other man’s name. He glanced over, expecting to see surprise or pity or confusion, but was met with a smile like it was Christmas morning.

“Y’want me t’ help you pick some beers?” he offered, positively giddy.

“Ah…s-sure,” Hanzo replied, letting out a nervous chuckle.

McCree grinned, waving casually at the bartender. “Can we get a beer menu? And a food menu fer good measure,” he winked.

“No problem,” the man behind the bar replied, taking McCree’s card. “You wanna open a tab?”

“Yessir,” McCree nodded, sliding his card across the bar.

“Oh, no, no! I’ll pay,” Hanzo replied quickly, fumbling for his wallet.

“It’s alright, Hanzo,” McCree smiled.

“No, I chose the restaurant, I should pay,” Hanzo insisted.

“We can split the bill?” McCree offered,

“It’s no burden,” Hanzo said, pushing his card across the bar and giving the bartender a firm look. “I’ll handle the tab,” he stated with all the authority one would expect from a lawyer. The bartender’s thick red beard twitched, and he slid McCree’s card back.

“Guess your boyfriend is handling it,” the bartender murmured to McCree, winking.

“Sssh, it’s a first date,” McCree whispered, trying to laugh off his own blush. After Hanzo’s adorable blushes and flustered laughter, seeing him confident was a pleasant shock. As if he wasn’t cute enough before… When he glanced back at Hanzo, the other man’s cheeks were ablaze. He was still smiling, though.

God, his smile was adorable.

“So, uh, what sort of drinks do you like, and what sounds good for lunch?” McCree asked, reaching for the menus a little too eagerly.

“I usually drink sake or shochu,” Hanzo replied. “Not that I drink often,” he added.

“Hmm…that’s some pretty strong stuff fer lunchtime,” McCree mused, “You still gotta go back to work, don’tcha? Let’s try somethin’ a little lighter.”

“Whatever you recommend,” Hanzo smiled, “I trust your palate.”

“Aww shucks, darlin’,” McCree smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “In that case…Barkeep, what local options do ya have for a blonde ale?”

“We have three local microbrews, a few domestic brews including Fancy Lawnmower, and authentic Küpper’s Kölsch,” the bushy-bearded bartender replied, adjusting his thick-framed glasses.

“Hoo boy, might have t’ get us each a glass of that!” McCree grinned, looking back at Hanzo. “Some sorta pasta or sausage’ll go good with that,” he advised.

“Very well, I’ll have the Italian sausage and penne marinara, on your expert recommendation,” Hanzo smiled, unable to rid himself of the heat in his cheeks. McCree was just as easygoing and open as he was in his videos…a bus could come careening through the front window at that very moment and Hanzo would die the happiest man on earth.

“An’ I’ll have a burger, all the fixin’s,” McCree added with a smile. “An’ I think we’ll hold onto the beer menu fer a while, if’n ya don’t mind.”

“No problemo,” the bartender replied, tapping their order into his phone and sending it back to the kitchen.

“So…DragonLord89,” McCree began, smiling over at Hanzo and chuckling at his groan.

“I am _so_ embarrassed about that, I’m sorry,” Hanzo said, hiding his face in one hand.

“Hey now, it’s all good,” McCree smiled, reaching over and patting Hanzo’s shoulder. “If y’ hadn’t sent me that e-mail, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I don’t know,” Hanzo murmured.

“Well, I wouldn't've panicked an’ looked ya up on yer firm’s website, or e-mailed you back so much t’ make sure my ducks were all in a row, legally speakin’,” McCree laughed. “An’ I’d have probably jes’ mailed you yer book—hate t’ admit it, but…well, yer an awful handsome man, and I might’ve been a bit eager t’ get a look at you in person,” he said sheepishly.

Hanzo let out an embarrassed laugh in reply, turning away and brushing his uncooperative bangs behind his ear. ‘He’s interested—really, _really_ interested!’ His eyes shot up as two tall, cylindrical glasses full of pale gold beer were pushed their way, the bartender’s smile hidden behind his waxed, curled mustache.

“Enjoy,” he nodded, heading down the bar to card a few college students celebrating the end of finals.

“Kampai,” Hanzo smiled, lifting his glass in McCree’s direction. At least he could now blame the flush in his cheeks on the alcohol…

“Cheers,” he replied, clinking his glass delicately against Hanzo’s and sipping. Hanzo was quick to join him, though anticipation of the taste soured his expectations somewhat. He had experience with beer, of course—it was the drink of choice for penny-pinching college students who were looking for a _nomihou_ and karaoke just across the tracks from campus on one of his rare excursions past the library.

The beers he’d usually had were bitter and thin and tasted like the 10 yen they’d spent on each draw, but this was a world away. It was light, crisp, and warmed his mouth as it slid easily down his throat. It tasted…summery, somehow, and left a delightful tingle on his tongue even as the slight bitterness set in after his sip.

“Hoo, that’s smooth,” McCree remarked, smiling at the drink in his glass and subtly licking the foamy head from his lip. “What do y’ reckon?”

“It’s…very nice, actually,” Hanzo smiled, “How did you know about this beer?”

“Well, t’ round out a meal, y’ gotta know what drinks go with it. I studied beer and wine pairings jes’ as much as cookin’, to make sure the best meal possible gets made,” McCree replied, taking another long, smooth sip.

“I never really thought about beer being paired with food,” Hanzo mused, “Most people just drink the same thing no matter what, don’t they?”

“Yeah, real shame,” McCree sighed. “Though nowadays, more people are gettin’ interested in treatin’ beer proper. The wrong food can make or break a beer, jes’ like a wine.”

“There’s so much to consider,” Hanzo nodded, sipping at his glass again. “I think…I will be having another glass of this before I go back to the office,” he smiled.

A few beats passed as they each sipped their beers, uncertainty creeping up Hanzo’s neck again.

‘Say something to him, you idiot! Talk! Talktalktalktalktalk’

“Ah…so…what do you do in your spare time?” Hanzo asked, defaulting back to one of the very first questions he’d learned how to ask in English.

“Heh, ain’t got much spare time,” McCree replied. “I had a bit of a break while the printers were handlin’ my book, but I spent that extra time filmin’ episodes ahead o’ time so I could get all the books an’ rewards shipped out.”

He took another sip, smacking his lips in appreciation and leaning against the bar, to better face Hanzo.

“It was rough on Hana, since she’s got her finals an’ such, but I can pack boxes an’ envelopes by myself, so she’s back home crammin’,” McCree continued.

“How did you two meet?” Hanzo asked, the question much more natural.

“Heh, jes’ typical Southern hospitality, really,” McCree smiled, glancing away a bit bashfully. “Saw her an’ her pop movin’ in next door, so I whipped up a quick pineapple upside-down cake an’ some lemonade. Ended up helpin’ haul boxes an’ assemble furniture, kept bringin’ over fresh veggies from me an’ Ana’s gardens, tradin’ recipes with her dad, helped Hana with her Spanish homework…‘fore long, they were jes’ another part of the neighborhood.”

Hanzo smiled, sipping at his beer and finding himself drawn in just as much as with Jesse’s videos. He was so generous and outgoing and relaxed…so unlike himself.

“But I imagine y’ know a lot more about me than I know about you,” McCree smiled, waving a casual hand. “Tell me about yourself. You got any siblings? Pets? Hobbies ‘sides cookin’?” he asked, his warm gaze fixed on Hanzo, monitoring the flush in his cheeks.

“Ah, well…I do have a brother, and he’s…” Hanzo hesitated, sucking on his teeth slightly. He hesitated to say Genji was ‘a pain in places I didn’t know I had places’, but it would be accurate.

“Younger brother, then?” McCree asked, smiling.

“Yes,” Hanzo nodded, chuckling softly. “You?”

“Nah, I’m an only child, I’m afraid,” McCree replied. “My cousins were all the way ‘cross the country, so I was all by my lonesome. Alright, next was pets, right?”

“Heh, well, there’s an office cat,” Hanzo replied. “Brutus. He belonged to Mr. Morrison, but he’s adopted my coworker Amélie instead and hardly has anything to do with Mr. Morrison anymore.”

“Ain’t that just like a cat,” McCree smiled.

“As for me, I have dragons, but Genji has been looking after them—that’s my brother,” Hanzo quickly supplemented. “They do best in groups, but Genji only has one, and I’ve been awfully busy at the firm, so he is…I believe the word is ‘pet sitting’?”

“Now, you say ‘dragons’, you mean them little noodly-lookin’ fellas?” McCree asked, his eyes somewhat wide. “They’re pretty rare, ain’t they?”

“They are certainly specialty pets,” Hanzo nodded. “I have to drop money in Genji’s account for mice every month. I miss having them around, but I can’t give them the attention they need every day,” he sighed.

“I hear ya,” McCree nodded, turning back as the bartender returned.

“Another round?”

“I’ll have another,” Hanzo nodded.

“Why don’tcha bring me a red lager to go with my food,” McCree replied, his eyes scanning across the beer menu and a mischievous smirk coming to his lips. “How about this one, ‘Dragon’s Breath’,” he grinned, glancing over at Hanzo and winking.

“I’ll see if we still have a bottle, but it’s seasonal and I haven’t seen any cases come in lately,” the bartender replied, adjusting his glasses. “Do you have a second choice, if we’re out?”

“Yeah, Coney Island’s my fallback choice,” McCree nodded, sliding the menus back. Hanzo took the opportunity to hurriedly Google ‘questions for a first date’, rather flustered. The last dates he’d been on had been arranged, formalized to the point of ritual; he was completely out of his element, and he couldn’t make Jesse ask all the questions…

“…Are you a cat person, or a dog person?” he asked, almost immediately wanting to punch himself for such an uninteresting question. McCree blinked, a little chuckle leaving him.

“Dog person,” he replied, glancing down at Hanzo’s phone, “C’mon, darlin’, we ain’t gotta stick to no script here. What was yer favorite dish growin’ up?” he asked, brushing some of his chestnut hair aside, “What makes you smile rememberin’ it?”

Hanzo blinked, casting his mind around for a moment. “Well…I miss unagi,” he said, “And I miss oden. It’s hard to find in America,” Hanzo remarked. But neither was really his favorite… He let out a soft sigh, a little smile coming to his lips as he remembered running down the streets of Hanamura with Genji, their yellow hats held on only by the elastic bands under their chins.

“There was a ramen shop near my home…Genji and I used to eat there after school. The ramen itself was nothing special…but being able to read the menu when Genji couldn’t, and paying for both of us, it made me feel so grown up. We have so many good memories of that restaurant,” he smiled. “Pork slices, a halved soft-boiled egg, kamaboko, green onion…just typical Tokyo-style ramen, really, but something about it is just…I’ve never found that warmth anywhere else.”

“Love makes food so much sweeter,” McCree smiled, leaning against the bar and smiling as Hanzo described the dish. He had no idea what kama-whatever was, but the smile on Hanzo’s lips, the obvious warmth of that memory…it was clearly precious to him. “Yer gonna have t’ teach me how to make that, see if’n I can’t work somethin’ up for you.”

“I’ll do my best,” Hanzo chuckled, smiling as his second beer was slid his way.

* * *

“Listen, I had a really great time,” McCree said, leading Hanzo back to the door of his building.

“So did I…and thank you for the book,” Hanzo smiled, feeling much more relaxed after nearly two hours with the cowboy. It was going to be a late evening, to make up for such a long lunch—and he didn’t even have a new client to make up for it. But he had his cookbook and Jesse’s number, and that was an _excellent_ consolation prize.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you again, y’know,” McCree ventured, his hand wandering to the small of Hanzo’s back again as they reached the door.

“I would like that very much,” Hanzo replied, fiddling with the binding on the cookbook nervously.

“What’re you doin’ fer lunch tomorrow?” McCree asked, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes.

“I…I’m afraid lunch is spoken for tomorrow,” Hanzo replied, “But…dinner perhaps?” he offered, his heart jumping into his throat. Did he seriously just make that offer? Genji knew what he was talking about with the alcohol. Maybe he owed him another cake…

“Dinner would be great!” McCree replied, his smile overtaking his entire face. “I mean, I-I’ll have to check my recording schedule, make sure I got my daily quota of rewards shipped out—but I’m definitely free this weekend, if y’ think you can wait,” he added, winking.

Hanzo hid his face behind his cookbook, barely suppressing a giggle as he punched the button to call the elevator. _Could_ he wait? It had been ages since he’d had such a delightful lunch, and he was already on cloud nine, imagining the next meal with an uncharacteristic amount of glee. Talk about dying a happy man…!

“That sounds perfect,” Hanzo finally replied, lowering the book and doing his best to resemble a grown man once again as they stepped into the elevator.

“Well, I’ll definitely give you a call or somethin’ before then,” McCree smiled, trying to read the moment. He wouldn’t get another opportunity like this for a while… His heart skipped a beat and he stepped closer, a hand on Hanzo’s hip as he leaned close, hoping, _praying_ Hanzo would meet him in the middle.

Once again, Hanzo found his brain disengage from the tracks completely, hurtling toward disaster at unreasonable speeds. He shifted to autopilot as he leaned closer, struck once again by how tall the cowboy was, how gentle his touch was on his waist, how handsome the line of his jaw was…

His kiss was whiskery but soft, and _terribly_ polite. McCree’s lips parted just enough to keep it from being all beard and mustache, the flavor of the rich red beer and the scent of hops still lingering there. Hanzo gripped the cookbook as if it were the only thing keeping his heart from bursting from his chest, leaning closer to McCree, a tiny sound of longing caught in his throat like a little bird tangled in a net.

The elevator dinged and Hanzo pulled back reluctantly, immediately missing Jesse’s warm lips.

“Oh my God!”

A voice instantly kicked his brain back into gear, his eyes snapping open and full body twitching backward.

“Nothing happened!” he blurted quickly, his face beet red as he sought the owner of the voice.

Lena.

Well, it could have been worse.

“Hanzo, you never told me you had a boyfriend!” she grinned, looking between the two.

“I don’t—I mean, he’s not—I—we just—” he stuttered, his gaze flicking between the two in a panic, before searching desperately for the emergency hatch. Could he climb out of an elevator car without assistance? McCree let out an embarrassed chuckle, holding out a hand.

“Jesse McCree, ma’am.”

“Lena Oxton,” she grinned, giving him an enthusiastic shake.

“Well, guess I’d better scoot ‘fore I block up the elevator too much,” McCree chuckled, looking over at Hanzo and spying only a flushed forehead peeking out past his hands. He tipped his head down and kissed Hanzo’s forehead playfully, smiling. “I’ll give you a call, an’ we can plan for dinner Saturday,” he said with casual confidence, gently guiding Hanzo out of the elevator and pushing the button for the ground floor. “See ya soon, darlin’,” he winked, his own cheeks still flushed from the excitement of the moment.

“Bye,” Hanzo managed to squeak, peeking out from behind his fingers as the doors slid shut, a triumphant grin on the cowboy’s lips. His heart was pounding so loudly, he was certain Lena must have been able to hear it.

“You lucky boy, he’s very handsome,” she remarked, smiling over at Hanzo and faltering at the expression she found on his face. Three parts serious and two parts embarrassed, with a heaping helping of terror, if she wasn’t mistaken.

“Lena, please,” he said, his voice choked slightly, “Don’t tell. Anyone. Please. I beg you.”

“O-okay,” she fumbled, slightly surprised. Perhaps he wasn’t out yet to anyone in the office…? That would make sense—after all, she hadn’t known he was interested in men until about 90 seconds before.

“ _Especially Mei. Don’t tell Mei. Ohmygodpleasedon’ttellMei.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to The Writer's Block discord server for giving me A+ beer advice, since I'm NOT a beer drinker! <3


	12. Chapter 12

_> >omg howd ur d8 go?_

Hanzo frowned at the message, laying his phone aside and doing his best to focus on the paperwork in front of him. After a few minutes, it pinged again.

 _> >uh oh  
_ _> >that bad?_

_> I’m working._

_> >anija_  
_> >talk 2 me_  
_> >did it go bad?  
_ _> >did he not like tha pub?_

_> Genji, please. I’m waiting for a call from a client._

_> >ok ok_  
_> >wil u call me after work then????  
_ _> >or com by?_

_> GENJI_

Hanzo dropped his phone in his briefcase and locked it shut, frowning as the little Line jingle continued to play again and again.

“How was your date?”

Hanzo cringed at hearing the question again, his gaze flicking up and landing on Satya.

“It was…” He chewed on his lip for a moment, his cheeks warming as he remembered the feeling of McCree’s lips against his, how soft Jesse’s kiss had been…how Lena interrupted it, how stupid he was for kissing someone in the elevator…god, what if it had been Mr. Reyes or Mr. Morrison who’d seen them?

‘Mr. Reyes would probably understand. He’s not as strict…’

‘But what if he didn’t understand? He and Morrison don’t kiss at work, and they’re _married…_ ’

Hanzo sighed, pushing back from his desk slightly. Just answer the question… “The date was wonderful. Jesse is…so at ease in a conversation, I hardly know what to say to him.”

“But it went well?” she asked, her arms crossed casually.

“…It could have been much worse,” Hanzo replied after a moment of consideration, a little chuckle leaving him.

It _could_ have been worse. He’d imagined all sorts of worse scenarios the night before, each one increasingly ridiculous; he hadn’t been able to sleep until he’d devised a solution for a possible kidnapping. But in the end, the worst thing that had happened that afternoon had been asking a stupid question and then…well, having an audience for their first kiss.

He trusted Lena to be discreet.

“Did he give you his phone number?” she asked, raising a well-kept brow and suppressing a smile as best she could. Hanzo didn’t hold back nearly as much as he pulled his copy of ‘The Cooking Cowboy: Recipes from the Chuckwagon’ and opened it to the first page:

‘Hanzo,

I had a great time with you, and I can’t wait to see you again!

Jesse McCree XOXO’

He snapped the book shut before Satya could memorize the phone number scrawled underneath.

“All in all, it looks like you were quite successful,” she nodded, turning and pausing at the doorway. “Mei has been wondering where you were, though—I don’t think she suspects anything yet, but don’t be too evasive or she won’t drop the bone.”

“Understood,” he chuckled, setting the book down on his desk and turning back to his stack of research. After a few minutes, however, he glanced back at the book and flipped it back open, trying to punch in McCree’s number as casually as possible.

‘ _I had a really great time today :)’_

Sending the text somehow made him feel better—the last detail that he had to add before the date was truly complete.

* * *

“Ohmygod, Hana!” Jesse gasped, slumping into his armchair, “I got a kiss! Y’all said I wouldn’t get one on a lunch date, an’ _I got one_!”

“Whoa, really?” Hana blinked, dropping her bag into the kitchen chair where she normally did her work. “I’m impressed—you’re smoother than I thought,” she grinned.

“Guess so!” he laughed. “An’ it looks like we’ve got another date set fer Saturday. I can’t hardly stand waitin’,” McCree sighed, splayed out across his chair in a dramatic fashion.

“How did it go, aside from that?” she asked, popping her laptop open.

“He’s so _cute!_ ” McCree cried, “He got all flustered an’ blushed somethin’ fierce, like a cute li’l tomato,” he sighed, resting a hand across his heart. “Oh, but he can be so serious, too—he was payin’ fer lunch, come hell or high water.” Jesse didn’t want to mention out loud the little skip his heart gave when Hanzo _decreed_ that he was going to pay, the hint of cool strength and dominance enough to send him over the moon. Woe be unto him who crossed Hanzo in the courtroom.

“Well I sure hope so—he’s the fancy lawyer, after all,” Hana replied casually.

McCree jumped slightly as his phone buzzed in his pocket, an enormous grin spreading across his face as he saw who the message was from. “Speak of the devil,” he purred, tapping out a few quick replies.

‘ _Me too darlin ;)’_

‘ _Do I pick the place this time? I know a few good steakhouses.’_

“Well, my Spanish final went well, thanks for asking,” Hana said, her gum popping. “You got me through the oral exam.”

“Good job, kiddo!” McCree smiled, struggling to free himself from his awkward position in his chair. “You think we got time t’ film somethin’, or we jes’ gonna use the videos we got prepared?”

“…Did you have something in mind?” Hana asked.

* * *

Hanzo sighed and laid his head down on the steering wheel as he found himself in unexpected gridlock. It was a Thursday evening, what could possibly be the hold-up? The large number of out-of-state license plates gave a hint, and he remembered what Jesse had mentioned about Hana’s schedule; it was graduation time, wasn’t it? Traffic was going to be terrible for a week, at least.

If it weren’t for the constant honking and the soft hints of muffled expletives all around, he might have been able to get a little meditation in…which left only one other ‘relaxation technique’. He casually flicked open the alerts on his phone and tapped the newest YouTube alert, his heart skipping a few beats awkwardly as he saw the title of Jesse’s latest video.

‘Cooking Cowboy’s Romantic Secrets – Engagement Chicken and Wedding Soup!’

After a few moments of hesitation, Hanzo hit play.

“Y’all might’ve heard about a magic recipe t’ get a man t’ propose, but lookin’ at the typical Engagement Chicken recipe, you might find yerself headin’ fer a divorce. I’m here to help you kick up that classic Lemon Herb Roasted Chicken to truly magical levels.”

“I’m usually an advocate fer simplicity, but the classic Engagement Chicken recipe is jes’ chicken, lemon, salt an’ pepper. Yer allowed to use herbs an’ spices, y’all!” he laughed. A quick graphic slid on-screen that read ‘Side dishes, too!’

“Now, summer’s the most popular time t’ get married, so here’s some dishes you’ll find on any self-respectin’ menu at a reception: my herb-roasted engagement chicken an’ a classic wedding soup.” He gave the camera a wink and a smile, and Hanzo felt his heart flutter.

‘The date went _really_ well from his end, then…’

“So first thing’s first, take yer whole roastin’ chicken, pull the gibets out, an’ pat ‘er dry—don’t bother washin’ it, that’ll jes’ spread bacteria around yer kitchen. We’re puttin’ it in a 400 degree pre-heated oven, that’ll kill way more germs than’ a quick rinse!

“Now roll up yer sleeves, ‘cause it’s time to stuff this bird,” McCree grinned, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Add some o’ that good sea salt and fresh ground pepper to the inside, an’ add stuff in some garlic and some of yer favorite minced herbs. If this is yer first rodeo, a good trio t’ start with is rosemary, thyme an’ parsley. Really pairs up with that garlic so it ain’t overpowering. Yer tryin’ to attract a spouse, not repel vampires!” he laughed, winking at the camera in his casual way.

“Then it’s time fer the main event. Roll the lemons on yer counter to get the juice flowing, then prick ‘em with a sharp fork to let them juices out. Stuff two of ‘em inside yer bird, an’ truss it to keep everything inside. Check out my how-to on trussin’ birds here,” he said, gesturing upward. “If ya wanna get real fancy, you can check out my recipe fer herb butter an’ rub that all over yer bird, but if yer a little pressed fer time, regular butter is jes’ fine, an’ if you want somethin’ a little lighter, you can use olive oil instead. Rub that butter all over the outside, squeeze that last lemon on top, an’ season it real good with some salt an’ pepper. Lay the bird breast-up in the pan, then drop those lemons ya jes’ squeezed in along with it. Toss in some more of yer garlic an’ herbs, an’ some sliced yellow onion around it, an’ give it a splash of water—bout half a cup—so you have somethin’ to baste with as we go.

“Now, turn the temperature down to about 350 so we don’t burn the butter, an’ we’re gonna want to roast this bird for about an hour an’ a half, dependin’ on weight. But that don’t mean you can jes’ set it an’ forget it! You wanna make sure you baste your bird with all those good drippin’s every twenty minutes or so. You should try turnin’ it every 30 minutes, too—that’ll keep the meat from dryin’ out in one place, an’ give everythin’ a nice, even brown. Go ahead an’ add more water as ya need it, too, half a cup at a time. The bird’s done cookin’ when the thigh reads 175 degrees on yer meat thermometer, an’ the juices run clear. Tip the juices from the cavity into the pan, an’ rest the bird before carving.

“You can make a real tasty chicken gravy or sauce from the drippin’s too, if you like—fer gravy, add half a cup of flour an’ reduce on the stove—if yer not gettin’ enough, add some chicken stock. Fer a thinner, lighter sauce, add half a cup of wine instead, with jes’ a little flour to help thicken it up. White wine is a good match, but red wine’ll give you a sauce like you’d have with coq au vin.”

“But we ain’t cookin’ jes’ one dish—we need our appetizer!” he announced, pushing his chicken ingredients out of the way dramatically. “Luckily, you can make Wedding Soup while yer bird is finishin’, so everything will be ready to go at the same time.”

“So once you’ve turned yer bird for the last time, mix up the ingredients for yer meatballs. Take yer grated onion, parsley, garlic, salt, breadcrumbs an’ egg, and mix ‘em up real good in a big mixing bowl. Once that’s evenly mixed, it’s time to add our grated Parmesan, an’ our ground meats. Beef an’ pork are the traditional ingredients, but you can use different meats to match yer partner’s favorites. Roll it up into balls, ‘bout an inch across, an’ put ‘em on a cookie sheet. Leave ‘em in the fridge to help firm ‘em up, and to keep ‘em out of the way while you work on other stuff—maybe it’s time to pull yer bird, or mash some ‘taters, or you wanna mix up that gravy.”

“Either way, you want your chicken to rest fer about 10-15 minutes, which is just enough time to make soup. To start, bring yer chicken broth to a boil an’ drop in yer meatballs to cook. Once you’ve dropped in the meatballs, chop up yer chicory leaves an’ slide ‘em on in, too, an’ let it simmer ‘til yer meatballs are cooked through an’ yer chicory’s tender. Remember, the name ‘wedding soup’ comes from how good the greens go with the broth, so make sure the chicory’s cooked nice. When it’s raw, it’s kind of bitter, but it mellows out when you cook it in a soup. Take a bite of it before you start, to compare,” he suggested, the video cutting for a moment to him munching placidly on the prickly-looking leaves.

“Once everything’s cooked through, whisk the egg an’ cheese together, an’ drizzle it into the soup the same way we did in our Egg Drop Soup recipe. Season it with a touch o’ salt an’ pepper, ladle it up with a healthy portion of meatballs, an’ sprinkle some Parmesan on top. Then jes’ carve up yer chicken an’ serve!”

“An’ there you have it, folks! Jesse McCree’s Engagement Chicken an’ Wedding Soup!” The video switched to his dining room, the lights dimmed and the table lit with candles. The chicken was expertly carved and presented elegantly on fine china, with generous bowls of soup on the side. “Pair it with a Chardonnay, or if yer date likes dark meat, aim for a medium-bodied red, like a Pinot Noir—if they’re a wine buff, surprise ‘em with a Portuguese wine, like a red Trincadeira or a white Encruzado,” his voiceover instructed as the camera elegantly panned across his table. Jesse himself was seated at one end and raised a glass of wine to the camera, smiling.

“Can’t wait to cook this for _my_ darlin’,” he purred, sending a smoldering gaze directly to Hanzo and winking.

Hanzo dropped his phone, the flutter in his chest turning into a sickening writhe in his gut.

This was too fast.

‘Too fast. Too serious,’ he thought, dread beginning to stir in his belly.

He hadn’t wanted to say anything to Genji, but there was a reason he hadn’t gone on a date since college. Every date was too fast—too serious. They’d all been omiai arranged by pushy relatives, who expected to be arranging the wedding by the third date.

Too fast. Too serious.

The sun was long down before Hanzo finally pulled into his driveway, the dread having gone from a drip to a full-blown waterfall in his gut. He wanted to throw up, but he knew better—there was hardly anything in his stomach, and the only thing worse than actually throwing up was dry heaving as your body fought something that wasn’t there.

Somewhere along the way, he managed to unlock his door and get his shoes off, though he lost a sock on the way to his living room floor. He numbly dialed the number for Mr. Reyes, hoping he would just go straight to voice mail.

“Reyes here.” Damnit.

“Sssorry to bother you,” Hanzo began, almost immediately regretting opening his mouth. “This is Hanzo…I’m…afraid I’m ill.”

“You sound like hell, Shimada. You gonna be out tomorrow, then?”

“I believe so, yes,” Hanzo groaned.

“Well, you know the Friday sick day policy. No doctor’s note, no excused time off.”

“I understand,” Hanzo sighed. “I will try.”

“Take it easy, okay? See you Monday, hopefully.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo croaked, hanging up and letting his phone slide from his fingers, the creeping feeling of bile climbing up the back of his throat as each second ticked by, drawing him inexorably closer to Saturday night.

…At least the floor was still clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemon and Herb Roasted "Engagement Chicken"
> 
>  **INGREDIENTS:**  
>  1 whole chicken  
> 3 lemons  
> 1 1/2 tsp total of minced rosemary, thyme, and parsley  
> 4-5 cloves garlic, 1 minced  
> 1 yellow onion, sliced  
> 2 Tbst butter (substitute herb butter for a richer flavor, or olive oil for a lighter meal)  
> Salt and Pepper
> 
> **DIRECTIONS:**
> 
>   1. Preheat the oven to 400F.
>   2. Remove the giblets and allow the chicken to drain into the sink if necessary. Pat it dry.
>   3. Fill the cavity with salt, pepper, garlic, and herb mixture.
>   4. Prick two lemons with a fork to allow the juices to seep out. Stuff them into the cavity.
>   5. Truss the chicken and lay it breast-up in the roasting pan.
>   6. Rub the butter or olive oil over the chicken.
>   7. Cut the remaining lemon into wedges and squeeze over the chicken. Drop the wedges in the pan.
>   8. Spread onion slices around the pan, along with remaining garlic and herbs.
>   9. Salt and pepper the chicken thoroughly.
>   10. Add 1/2 cup of water to the roasting pan.
>   11. Place the chicken in the oven, and reduce to 350F.
>   12. Baste the chicken in its juices about every 20 minutes. (Add water as necessary to basting liquid)
>   13. After 30 minutes, remove the chicken and turn it in the pan using tongs. Return to oven
>   14. Insert a meat thermometer into the thigh. When it reads 175F and the juices run clear, the chicken is done. (The rule of thumb is approx. 20 minutes per pound, plus 15 for a stuffed bird)
>   15. Remove from the roasting pan and let the chicken rest for 10-15 minutes before carving.
> 

> 
>  
> 
> Wedding Soup  
> http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/giada-de-laurentiis/italian-wedding-soup-recipe
> 
> **INGREDIENTS**  
>  **Meatballs**
> 
> 1/2 small onion, grated  
> 2 Tbsp + 2 tsp chopped fresh Italian parsley  
> 1 large egg  
> 1/2 teaspoon minced garlic  
> 1/2 teaspoon salt  
> 1 slice fresh white bread, crust trimmed, bread torn into small pieces  
> 1/4 cup grated Parmesan  
> 4 ounces ground beef  
> 4 ounces ground pork  
> Freshly ground black pepper
> 
>  **Soup**  
>  6 cups low-sodium chicken broth  
> 1/2 pound chicory (aka curly endive), coarsely chopped  
> 1 large egg  
> 1 tablespoon freshly grated Parmesan, plus extra for garnish  
> Salt and freshly ground black pepper
> 
> **DIRECTIONS**
> 
>   1. Mix the first 6 ingredients in a large bowl.
>   2. When evenly mixed, stir in the cheese and meats.
>   3. Roll the mixture into small meatballs and place on a baking sheet.
>   4. Bring the broth to a boil in a large pot over medium-high heat. 
>   5. Add the meatballs and curly endive and simmer until the meatballs are cooked through and the curly endive is tender, about 8 minutes. 
>   6. Whisk the eggs and cheese in a medium bowl to blend. 
>   7. Stir the soup in a circular motion. Gradually drizzle the egg mixture into the moving broth, stirring gently with a fork to form thin stands of egg, about 1 minute. 
>   8. Season the soup to taste with salt and pepper.
>   9. Top with Parmesan cheese.
> 



	13. Chapter 13

“…Did you have something in mind?” Hana asked.

“I was thinkin’ a nice blackened steak an’ collard greens, some bacon in there somewhere…”

“We don’t have time to cook, like, eight steaks to get the shots we need, are you kidding?” she frowned.

“Alright, well, how’s about I just cook up a few fer you an’ yer dad, an’ we celebrate the end of finals week?” McCree grinned.

“It’s not over yet, but I like this plan anyway,” Hana grinned in return, slinging her bag over her shoulder again.

* * *

Hanzo felt something tickle his face, but his arms were pinned underneath him from how he’d managed to curl in on himself on the couch. He groaned in response, earning a soft chitter and a tiny chuff of breath in his ear. He turned his head, one bleary eye peeking out to find a blue and gold face peering into his, tongue flicking out curiously.

“Nishi?” he slurred, slowly turning onto his back and watching the dragon clamber onto his chest. “Where’s your brother?” he asked, glancing around the room. Another dragon, equally blue, was brutalizing his discarded necktie, his tail thumping and flicking as he fought the silk valiantly. If his dragons were here…

“Genji?”

Almost on cue, the smoke alarm began screaming in the kitchen.

Genji.

Groaning, Hanzo sat up and shuffled into the kitchen, his distinctly rumpled appearance the perfect visual to go with the alarm’s wail. Genji was desperately trying to put out the fire in the frying pan while waving a dish towel to dissipate the smoke.

“Quiet!” he whispered harshly, as if the alarm spoke Japanese. Hanzo sighed, his hand landing heavily on the back of one of this dining room chairs and pulling it over, climbing up and pushing the ‘test’ button with a little more vigor than might have been necessary.

“Genji. What are you doing here,” Hanzo asked flatly, his ears still ringing.

“Well, you didn’t reply to my messages and your boss said you were home sick, so—”

“You _called my boss?_ ” Hanzo groaned, snatching the towel from Genji’s hand and dropping it over the smoldering pan before swiftly delivering it to the sink.

“You didn’t answer your phone, and I was worried!” Genji replied, “And I know where you keep the spare key, and I think your dragons wanted to see you anyway, so…I guess I should order a pizza for lunch or something. Your omurice kind of…” he trailed off.

Hanzo sighed, shuffling over to the fridge. “I appreciate the thought,” he remarked, shuffling a few ingredients before pulling out a tub of miso paste and some tofu. He needed something in his stomach, and miso was fast. “Did you make rice?”

“Yeah, I can handle rice makers, at least,” Genji laughed, secretly hoping that he could, in fact, handle the rice maker.

“Well, we can have a light lunch, at least,” Hanzo sighed.

“...Are you ever going to tell me how the date went?” Genji asked, glancing over his shoulder at the sound of several sets of dragon claws on the tile floor, Hanzo’s dragons expertly chasing Genji’s through the unfamiliar territory. Hanzo sighed, leaning against the counter and hanging his head.

“Fine,” he muttered.

“It doesn’t sound fine,” Genji replied, leaning next to him and tipping his head. Hanzo pulled his dying phone out of his pocket and opened up the texts they’d exchanged, holding it over to Genji to look at. “...Well, it looks good to me,” he frowned. “What’s this guy look like, anyway? What’s my brother into?” he asked, his tone playful. “Did you take any selfies with him?”

Hanzo sighed, flipping through the recent apps and pulling up the fateful video again. “Here. That’s him,” he said, his cheeks heating up at the sound of Jesse’s voice.

“Ehh? _That’s_ him?” Genji laughed, grinning. He didn’t imagine Hanzo would go for such a masculine-looking guy—he was a mountain of broad chest and flannel shirts and thick arms and scruffy beard—but then again, he’d only just found out that Hanzo liked men in the first place, and this guy was a man and a half.

“Don’t make fun of me.” Genji blinked at the soft whisper, looking over at Hanzo; his head was in his hands, and his shoulders trembled.

“H-hey, I’m not making fun,” Genji replied, reaching out and giving his shoulder a little squeeze. “I’m just surprised. He’s really manly, isn’t he?”

“Genji,” Hanzo choked, “Please. Stop…I like him, I r-really, really like him, and I don’t…I don’t know what to…”

“It’s alright, it’s alright, come here,” Genji soothed, guiding Hanzo back toward the kitchen table. He hid his face the entire time, but Genji could see how red he was getting beneath his fingers. Hanzo must have been feeling _terrible_ , if he was on the verge of tears in front of someone. Normally he’d have folded himself up into the futon cabinet in his bedroom to hide. Genji realized after a moment that Hanzo almost certainly had a Western-style bedroom in his house, though—no futon cabinet, then…and given his current situation, hiding in the closet to cry was probably too on-the-nose.

“Here, just sit down, come on, you’ve got tea, right? I’ll throw together some ochazuke or something…” Genji frowned, rubbing Hanzo’s back. “…Do you have any packets?”

“Cabinet, left of the stove,” Hanzo said in a rush, taking up his former curled up position again. He struggled to keep his breathing under control, to grasp what had already leaked out and pull it back in, but it was impossible. He could feel his tears beginning to fall, filled with anxiety and frustration and self-loathing, and he could feel little point in trying to wipe them away—more would come to replace them, surely.

Genji poked around the kitchen for a few moments, looking for bowls and resisting the urge to rush back to Hanzo’s side as he heard a choked sob. He was already embarrassed, after all. The best thing Genji could do for now was get Hanzo what he needed.

Hanzo sniffed loudly as a slightly messy bowl of ochazuke was placed next to his elbow, a glass of water quickly following.

“Hey…you did it,” Hanzo remarked, his voice broken and his words trembling.

“There are a few things I can cook,” Genji replied, smiling.

“Ochazuke isn’t cooking,” Hanzo said, his tone slightly petulant. “Or cup noodles.”

“That’s fair,” Genji nodded, sitting with his own bowl next to Hanzo as he scooted his chair closer to Hanzo’s, waiting for his big brother to speak, the way Hanzo had always sat next to him and waited for his tears to run out when the were younger.

“I really like him,” Hanzo repeated with a sob, his hands shielding his eyes from Genji’s.

“Do you have another date scheduled?” Genji asked, fiddling with his chopsticks but not actually eating.

“T-tomorrow,” Hanzo choked.

“Alright, do you know what you’re wearing?”

“I’m not going,” he blurted, quickly shaking his head and pushing his phone away from where Genji had laid it. “No, I’m not going, I can’t.”

“What? Why?!” Genji sputtered, “You like this guy!”

“Too fast, it’s t-too fast,” Hanzo sobbed. “I’m not ready for this—it’s too fast…”

“Hey now, easy,” Genji soothed, reaching out and rubbing Hanzo’s back gently, “What’s too fast? The second date?”

“H-he’s…he’s already talking about marriage,” Hanzo managed to say, gesturing viciously toward the phone. “It’s too much. Too much…”

“I didn’t see that in his text,” Genji frowned, picking the phone up again.

“N-no, the video!” Hanzo spat, his voice rising.

“What? Is it a proposal video or something?” he asked, skipping ahead a few minutes and frowning, doing his best to analyze how cooking instructions were a marriage proposal.

“ _Engagement_ chicken, _wedding_ soup, come on, Genji,” Hanzo huffed, rubbing furiously at his face. His frustration was building, and he knew he shouldn’t take it out on Genji, but it felt better than keeping it inside.

“I see,” Genji nodded, looking back down at the video. The man was enthusiastic and warm and really seemed to enjoy what he was doing…he couldn’t say he was attracted to him, but Genji could understand at least some of what Hanzo must see in him. “…Do you want to know what I think?” he asked, laying the phone down again. When Hanzo didn’t shoot him down, he decided to move forward. “I think you’re overthinking this. He’s American, they’re loud and exaggerate things.”

“But what if I’m _not_ overthinking?” Hanzo replied, crossing his arms and hiding his face in them.

“If you go on the date tomorrow and you find out he’s serious, you tell him to slow down.”

“I’m not going,” Hanzo hiccuped. Genji tried to suppress his little sigh of exasperation, hiding it in Hanzo’s sounds of lamentation.

“I think you should. I could check in on you and see how you’re doing,” he offered, smiling.

“What? No way! I don’t want a chaperone,” Hanzo replied, sniffling miserably.

“I’d just be at the restaurant, observing, letting you know what I think after,” Genji replied, “You wouldn’t even know I was there.”

“Genji…”

“Come on, you’ve helped me with Angela before,” Genji continued, “You cover for me with Dad and the others when they want to know what I’ve been up to, you’re a lifesaver on that. I want to return the favor…c’mon. Let me help you have a good second date.”

Hanzo sniffed, looking up at Genji through red-rimmed eyes. He looked so earnest, even if he knew Genji was out of his element, being the one to comfort him instead of vice-versa.

“…You already helped me have a good first date,” he murmured, giving him a watery smile.

“Well, I still owe you for a bunch of stuff,” Genji laughed softly.

“You’ve been looking after my dragons, you don’t need to do me any more favors,” Hanzo said, sitting up and rubbing at his face again.

“They’re well-behaved, it’s not out of my way. Come on, Hanzo, let me help you out for once, huh?” Genji smiled, his hand still and steady on Hanzo’s back.

“Well,” Hanzo sniffed, “If you’re going to be helpful instead of a nuisance for once…could you get me some aspirin? My head hurts,” he whined.

“Sure,” Genji chuckled, rising from his seat. Hanzo remained in place, forcing down a few mouthfuls of now soggy rice, the subtle flavors almost entirely masked by salt. Ugh…he’d have to make his own ochazuke next time.

He glanced down as he felt a tug on his pant leg, sniffling and smiling as he saw one of his dragons attempt to climb up into his lap, his nose twitching and a soft chittering sound leaving him. Hanzo reached down for the creature, his little claws scrabbling at his damp sleeve as he wrapped himself around his arm for stability and clambered up, half-serpent half-kitten. His brother was quick to join him, scrambling up chair legs onto the table to help himself to Genji’s lunch for a moment before looping around Hanzo’s shoulders.

“Daddy misses you, too,” Hanzo sniffed, taking comfort in their smooth scales against his skin and tiny little paws grasping at his shirt.

“Do you want acetaminophen, or ibuprofen?” Genji called.

“It doesn’t matter,” Hanzo yelled back, his voice stuffy from crying. Genji returned with a few pills and a flat expression.

“It _does_ matter, I’m dating a doctor, remember?” he replied, unable to keep a straight face for long. “I brought you ibuprofen, it won’t kill your liver and it’s anti-inflammatory for your sinuses. That’s what Angela says anyway,” he added. Then again, was that acetaminophen she’d been talking about…?

“Whatever you say,” Hanzo replied, waving off the issue and quickly downing the pills.

“It’s way more important to decide what you’re wearing tomorrow—and what restaurant we’re going to.”

“ _I’m_ going to.”

“Whatever you say,” Genji teased.

“I think I need a shower,” Hanzo sighed, slowly standing and negotiating two long dragon bodies. “Can you put my phone on the charger? It’s probably almost dead…”

"Sure, no problem," Genji replied, flicking through the comments on the latest cooking video Hanzo was so enamored with.

* * *

 **GwenJones  
** >omg who is his darlin?

 **CheerioLuvr  
** >is he really seeing someone? Aww man...there goes all my hopes and dreams!  
>(Don’t tell my hubby lol)

 **DaisyCunningham  
** >周美玲  
>hey, if you find McCree at the store, ask him who he’s seeing! LOL

 **DragonLord69  
** >( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 **Cassies_Mom  
** >DragonLord69  
>OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!!!!!!! YOU’RE BACK!!!!!

 **IndiGoGoGirl  
** >Cassies_Mom  
>Check the name—it’s DragonLord69, not DragonLord89.  
>DragonLord69  
>lololol good to see the trolls have arrived on this channel.

 **Geekoroid  
** >DragonLord69  
>Wait do you know something? What’s with all these Dragon Lords?

 **D.Va Gaming – Official  
** >DragonLord69  
>Hey! What are you doing on this channel? Did you get lost? lol

 **IndiGoGoGirl  
** >D.Va Gaming – Official  
>Hello Miss Hana! Is he a troll?

 **D.Va Gaming – Official  
** >IndiGoGoGirl  
>Nope, he’s a regular on my channel. Glad to see my viewers are getting some nutrition though! ㅋㅋㅋ

 **DragonLord69  
** >i know something u dont know  
>( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 **IndiGoGoGirl  
** >DragonLord69  
>Stop making that face, it’s creepy.

 **DragonLord69  
** >( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
>( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
>( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
>( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
Read more

 **Geekoroid  
** >Looks like a troll to me

 **DragonLord89  
** >( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 **GwenJones  
** >Wait! do you two know each other?

 **SymmetryInMotion  
** >DragonLord69  
>Hmm…I know something you don’t know, as well. Care to play a game called ‘Where  
>in the world is DragonLord89?’  
>I’ll go first—he’s not at work today. ;)

 **DragonLord69**  
>SymmetryInMotion  
>good first move  
>( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 **SymmetryInMotion  
** >Just according to keikaku.

 **SassyMomma  
** >omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgomgogmogmgomgogmogmogmgomg!!!!!!!!!!!!

 **Cassies_Mom  
** >Did somebody figure out who DragonLord89 is? Did McCree say if he knew him?  
>I’m so confused! Was there an e-mail or a tweet that I missed???????

 **周美玲  
** >SymmetryInMotion  
>Hey! Wait a second…

 

Satya’s eyes widened for a moment and she hurriedly closed the YouTube app and stuffed her phone in her desk drawer, hurried footsteps growing nearer.

“Satya? Is there something you want to tell me?” Mei asked, her hands on her hips.


	14. Chapter 14

“Y’know,” Genji began through a mouth full of food, “I can’t say I think your boyfriend is sexy, but if he cooks like this? Even I’d date him.”

“I think the phrase is ‘The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach’,” Hanzo chuckled. The mini pizzas he’d thrown together weren’t even particularly difficult, he’d simply wanted to test the recipe before the next office potluck. Yes, that was it. He was _testing_ his third mini pizza of the evening.

Silently, they munched on pizzas for a few minutes before the nagging question in Hanzo’s mind could no longer be ignored.

“Genji…how do I bring up…sex?” he asked, looking down at his half-eaten pizza bite.

“In my experience, you don’t usually have to do much to make a man think about sex,” Genji chuckled. “And if I can offer my opinion, my brother is _hot stuff_ ,” he winked. “He’s probably already thinking about it.”

Hanzo let out a groan at the suggestion, rubbing at his eyes. He couldn’t admit that he’d been thinking about it, either. He’d never really enjoyed his times with women, and though the idea of his cowboy’s rough hands and warm lips was exciting, he was getting understandably anxious. He was a virgin all over again. Thirty-eight was a little old to be having a first time, wasn’t it…?

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Hanzo began, “But it’s not exactly helpful.”

“Well, I don’t know, google some tips?” Genji offered, pulling out his phone and tapping away, sliding it over to Hanzo.

“Ehh, 8 million hits for ‘gay dating advice’?” Hanzo mused, tapping the first result. The tips were dizzying, and shockingly impractical in spite of the article’s title.

“What even is this? ‘Bear, Twink, Twunk, Daddy, Cub, Dilf’…?” Genji read, laughing under his breath. “What is all this?”

“I’m not really sure,” Hanzo replied, chuckling softly. “‘If you’re over thirty and at least four years older than your date, don’t be surprised if he calls you ‘Daddy’?” The brothers glanced at each other and burst out laughing, the tension draining from Hanzo at least for a moment. “Could you imagine?”

“How old is your date, ‘Daddy’?” Genji laughed, elbowing him and earning a jab in response.

“I don’t know!” Hanzo laughed in return, “It probably says how old he is somewhere in his book…but he is _not_ calling me ‘Daddy’!” Genji cackled, casually scrolling through the list of suggestions and tips.

This was going to be an…interesting study experience for the both of them.

* * *

“Sure am glad you let me pick ya up this time,” McCree smiled, feeling his flush creep into his ears as Hanzo slid into the passenger seat of his old pickup, his little messenger bag making a surprisingly heavy sound against the floorboard.

“Jesse, there’s…” Hanzo began, taking a deep breath. “There’s something I have to ask you before we go anywhere.”

“What’s that, sugar?” McCree asked, keeping his smile in place even as something cold and heavy began sloshing around in his gut. Hanzo’s tone sounded serious, and the way he was staring at his knees didn’t encourage him much. He was silent for a few more moments before taking another steadying breath, his head rising.

“Did you…mean anything by your last video?” he asked, turning his head just far enough to make eye contact.

“What do you mean?” McCree asked, blinking as his mind began cranking furiously. What was the last video…? Hanzo’s eyes widened and his cheeks flared as he pulled his phone out of his bag, pulling up the video and holding it out blindly, his eyes hidden by his free hand.

Jesse only needed to see a few seconds before he let out a hearty laugh.

“Oh, honey, no, I didn’t…! Hoo, we filmed this weeks ago—it’s weddin’ season, so we scheduled it t’ go up around now…” McCree explained, his grin filling his voice. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it…you okay?”

Hanzo’s ears were bright red, his face hidden in his hands in that adorable way of his.

“Oh my god, I’m an idiot,” Hanzo murmured, his voice muffled by his palms.

“Naw, darlin’, it’s okay,” McCree laughed, reaching out and rubbing Hanzo’s back. “I’m sorry if I caused a stir. You been stressin’ about this?”

“...A-a little,” Hanzo admitted, peeking from behind his hand for a moment.

“Oh no, honey, I’m so sorry!” McCree said, his expression sympathetic even as embarrassed laughter continued to color his words. “No, no—not that you ain’t handsome an’ a great listener an’ all, but that’d’ve been a little fast, huh?”

“Yes,” Hanzo blurted, a breathy laugh of relief escaping him, “A-a little fast.”

“I’m sorry, will a hug make it better?” McCree offered, holding his arms out. Hanzo slowly dropped his hands and truly took in McCree for the first time. His smile remained, though it looked quite sheepish and his ears were bright red. Hanzo knew enough about reading people to know that he was quite embarrassed, and his constant apologies showed he was at least willing to be contrite.

Hanzo let out another breathy laugh and leaned across the console, hiding his beet red face in McCree’s shoulder. McCree’s arms wrapped around him, thick and strong and secure, and Hanzo could _feel_ the warm laughter in his chest bubbling up as he chuckled softly, another little apology murmured somewhere above his head.

‘Oh my god, he _does_ just smell like this,’ floated through his mind as he felt himself melting into that embrace, the tension ebbing away like a sore muscle under hot stones. He tucked his face into the crook of Jesse’s shoulder, even managing to smile as McCree’s rough hands rubbed soothing circles across his back. It took a moment before his own arms slid up Jesse’s back, the flannel soft from years of love and wear. He was lucky that his cheeks were already bright red from embarrassment—feeling the muscle of McCree’s broad back was oddly exhilarating.

Jesse let out another soft chuckle as the embrace was returned, pleasantly surprised by the strength in Hanzo’s arms. Law books must be heavy, he figured, his own cheeks heating up a bit at the other’s touch—shy, nervous, but curious and still somehow enthusiastic.

“You gonna be okay?” McCree asked softly, turning as best he could to catch sight of those bright red cheeks.

Hanzo nodded after a moment, drawing a quiet breath. “I think so,” he whispered, his heart skipping a beat.

“Good.” The word wasn’t so much spoken as purred, the rumble warm and strong and pulsing through Hanzo’s body in such a gentle, soothing way… He felt McCree begin to pull away and Hanzo hurriedly pulled his arms back, rocking back into the passenger’s seat almost a little too quickly, hiding his cheeks for a moment as he attempted to compose himself.

“…Guess we’d better get to the restaurant,” McCree smiled, finally buckling up and coaxing the engine to life.

* * *

“Sometimes, I’m not sure why I’m dating you,” Angela huffed, a sour expression on her face as she looked over Genji’s ‘disguise’—a black hoodie and a pair of novelty Groucho Marx glasses that have fooled no one in the history of the world.

“Sssh, I promised him he wouldn’t even know we were here,” Genji whispered, peering over his menu at the cowboy sitting a few tables away, his hat decorating the chair next to him and his flannel-covered bulk almost completely obscuring Hanzo from view. The man’s voice carried exceptionally well, however, keeping him apprised of their conversation.

So far? Dorky.

“No, the food won’t go bad—let’s say it’s a magical desert island made of food. What three foods do you want?” McCree asked, a playful grin on his lips.

“Okay, ah…sushi, because there are so many variations,” Hanzo began.

“Hey!”

“Number two,” he continued before McCree could object, “Would be pizza, because there are so many variations, and number three, fruit salad, because it has so many different ingredients.”

“You are such a cheater!” McCree laughed, his grin radiating from him.

“No, no!” Hanzo laughed, his cheeks flush, “I worked with the rules you gave me—three foods, knowing they won’t go bad, for the rest of my life. I even picked something healthy with high water content, since you said nothing about _drinks_ ,” he smirked.

“Shoulda known, comin’ from a fancy-pants lawyer,” McCree laughed, dropping his chin into his hand as he watched Hanzo, admiring the pink in his cheeks.

“Very well, what about you? What three foods would you eat on a desert island?”

“Hmm, I’d take barbecue pulled pork sandwiches,” McCree began, a little laugh leaving him. “I feel like sayin’ ‘pasta’ is cheatin’, but _you_ cheated on all three, so pasta,” he grinned, “And…mmm, rainbow sherbet.”

“I’m not sure those go together,” Hanzo chuckled.

“Pizza an’ sushi don’t go together,” McCree replied, chuckling. “Never said y’ had t’ eat ‘em all at once, did I?”

“No, thankfully,” Hanzo replied, attempting to busy himself with the few remaining bites of steamed vegetables on his plate. It was no wonder Americans didn’t like vegetables, if this is how they were always cooked…at the very least, they could sauté them, couldn’t they? Or add a little seasoning somewhere…

“Oh my god, Angela,” Genji sighed, his head clunking to the table, “My brother is hopeless.” He wasn’t even _close_ to broaching the subject of sex one way or another. Not unless it was part of some secret code, like that bear dilf stuff…he’d heard something about ear piercings, too—would that factor in? Hanzo didn’t have anything pierced, how would his date know?

“How much longer are we going to sit here stalking your brother?” Angela asked, frowning at the man next to her. “He looks like he’s having a perfectly nice time, and he hasn’t _once_ picked up any of the texts you were sending him all evening.”

“That’s why he’s hopeless!” Genji replied, throwing his hands up and sliding down in his seat. “How is he supposed to light a fire in that man if he doesn’t take my advice?”

“Can I be honest with you for a moment?” Angela asked, not waiting for his response, “You know nothing about dating men. It’s probably for the best that Hanzo hasn’t taken any of the advice you were sending him.”

“I got him a second date, didn’t I?” Genji pouted.

“Even a broken clock is right twice a day,” Angela said.

“Right! Twice!” he replied, leaning forward again and furiously texting on his phone. “I need to be right once more, then!” Angela sighed, rolling her eyes and searching for a window she could leap from.

“Don’t look now, but I think you have some competition.”

Genji looked up, his gaze flicking around the restaurant before landing on a familiar set of Groucho glasses on the opposite side of the dining room. A single girl with long, dark brown hair, and a _very_ familiar pink bunny rabbit phone case.

“No way…”

“Looks like Hanzo’s boyfriend has a meddling sibling, as well,” Angela chuckled. At least his date hadn’t been answering his phone, either.

“I’ll be right back,” Genji said in a rush, hopping up from his seat and trying to move as casually as possible through the dining room, skirting far around Hanzo’s table on his way.

“Keep walking, buster,” Hana said, her gaze focused intently on her phone, as if she could will Jesse to pick it up by texting hard enough at him.

“Hana Song?” Genji asked, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet—of course it was her, any fan would recognize her, dumb glasses or not. She glanced up, snorting in laughter.

“Nice glasses,” she grinned, swiping her own off. “Who are you supposed to be, some sort of impersonator?”

“I—No, it’s me! DragonLord69!” Genji cried as quietly as he could, given that he was announcing himself as ‘DragonLord69’ in public.

Hana stared for a few moments, her eyes widening.

“No. Way.”

“Yes way!” Genji laughed, “Your campus club Starcraft marathon was next level!”

“Psh, that was nothing—sometimes, you just have to own some dudebros, y’know?” she smirked. “So what’re you here for, aside from giving me a reason to call security?”

“Me? Oh, I’m looking after my brother on his date,” Genji replied, gesturing at his paltry disguise.

“I _knew_ something was going on when you started posting on that Cooking Cowboy video,” Hana grinned. “Did you steal his phone and post under his name?”

“I didn’t really _steal_ it, he asked me to put it on the charger for him,” Genji laughed.

“Oh my _god_ , you’re so bad!” Hana laughed. “You’ve gone and stirred the pot so much—the view count on that video is blowing up and there are _so_ many comments coming in.”

“I do what I must,” Genji smirked, bowing dramatically.

“I guess I should have suspected something in the first place—I thought it was _you_ when he first posted,” Hana giggled. “Ohmygod, you have _no_ idea how much Jesse talks about your brother, it’s cute bordering on sickening.”

“Hanzo’s been so nervous about this date,” Genji smiled, “But it looks like they’re doing alright, doesn’t it?” he asked, turning to their table and feeling the bottom of his stomach drop out.

The table was empty. Angela’s expression from across the dining room was one of wicked satisfaction.

* * *

Hanzo let out a laugh as the truck pulled out of the parking lot with perhaps a little too much urgency, Jesse letting out a whoop of laughter.

“Not that it ain’t a nice restaurant an’ all,” Jesse began, grinning as they made it onto the road, “But I’m glad to not have folks breathin’ down our neck.”

Hanzo laughed, his cheeks flushed as he looked over his shoulder, as if he would see Genji chasing him down the street. “You had a tail, too?” he asked, turning back to Jesse.

“Yup—Hana was keepin’ an eye on things. Thinkin’ it was yer brother who distracted her,” he laughed.

“…So where are we going?” Hanzo asked, looking back over at him with excitement in his eyes.

“How ‘bout we head down t’ the beach?” McCree offered, adjusting his hat now that they had half a moment to catch their breath.

“I’m not dressed for the beach,” Hanzo giggled.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun, let’s go. We can stay on the pier.”

“…Just the pier?” Hanzo replied, his smile growing wider. “I’d hate to get sand in your boots.”

“Heh, I’d hate that, too,” McCree laughed, taking the first left that he could.

* * *

The sound of seagulls and crashing waves mingled with the low drone of tourists wandering up and down the pier with their novelty Route 66 goods (which earned an appreciative chuckle from McCree whenever his eyes fell on the overpriced kitsch).

“Sure y’ don’t wanna rent a couple o’ fishin’ poles an’ see what comes up?” Jesse asked, pulling some cotton candy free from it’s stick.

“I’m sure,” Hanzo laughed, eating from the opposite side. He was happily pressed to Jesse’s side, his cheeks warming every time he stole a glance up at the other man’s face. McCree was so relaxed, so at ease with his arm around another man in public. He was almost jealous of him, somehow.

“You ever gone fishin’?” McCree asked, teasing more sugar free.

“No,” he chuckled, holding the treat still.

“You don’t know what yer missing~” Jesse teased.

“Do you fish?” Hanzo asked, peering up at him. With how outdoorsy Jesse looked, he wouldn’t be surprised.

“Not in a long time,” Jesse laughed, shaking his head. “…I used to go fishin’ with my Pa, though,” he sighed, pulling Hanzo a little closer.

“Are you close to your family?” Hanzo asked, concern creasing his brow.

“Not so much, anymore,” Jesse sighed. “You?”

“…No,” Hanzo sighed, resting his cheek on Jesse’s chest. He could hear his heartbeat, slow and strong, and felt a warm tingle slowly pour down his spine. “Only Genji.”

“How come? If y’ don’t mind me askin’,” Jesse asked, “If it’s private, y’ can jes’ tell me to drop it, it’s fine…”

“My family…wanted something very different for us,” Hanzo murmured. “They made him go to law school, too, can you believe that?” he asked, looking up at him. He sighed—Jesse didn’t know Genji, it wouldn’t matter to him. “They wanted us to become politicians,” he frowned, “Well—they wanted _me_ to become a politician. When I told them I wanted to be an attorney, they tried not to be disappointed.”

“Who in the world’d be disappointed at havin’ a lawyer fer a son?” Jesse asked, surprised by the very notion. Hanzo was smart and handsome and dedicated—how could he be a disappointment?

“Lawyers…do not see much work in Japan,” Hanzo chuckled. “Most people who study law go on to become public servants, or run for office, but I wanted to be a _bengoshi_. A politician would have been best, in their mind, but a lawyer could still be useful to the…‘family business’, so their plans for me got pushed onto Genji,” he muttered, his expression darkening. “In the end, they got neither.”

“…Do I wanna know ‘bout this ‘family business’?” Jesse asked, swallowing hard.

“No,” Hanzo replied firmly, before forcing a smile. Jesse looked so worried…it wasn’t a good look for him. Hanzo wasn’t particularly good at putting people at ease, but he had to try. “Don’t worry about it,” he said softly, his cheeks warming as he tried to soothe McCree, “It’s a world away.”

“You just get more an’ more mysterious every day, Hanzo,” McCree smiled, reaching up and stroking Hanzo’s cheek.

He chuckled and turned his face into Jesse’s shoulder to avoid the touch, his heart skipping a beat. He couldn’t believe he was this close to Jesse—had _been this close for several minutes_ , even. He smelled of herbs and spices; something fresh and sharp and green, something aged and warm and brown…leather and scallions and cedar and fine Cuban cigars. And of course, under it all, a distinctly masculine scent that made Hanzo’s face heat up and sent warm, gentle pulses to his groin the longer he smelled it—which, of course, meant he had to hide his face even more in Jesse’s shoulder, drinking in that scent, burning up in the most wonderful ways—

“You okay, darlin’?” Jesse asked, chuckling softly at Hanzo’s red ears and the hint of smile peeking out.

“Mhmm,” he toned, reaching up and hiding his face from view, earning another laugh from Jesse.

“You are too cute, y’ know that?” Jesse murmured into his ear, kissing Hanzo’s temple and earning a soft noise from the other man.

“Stop,” Hanzo laughed, pulling back with a lovestruck grin on his face.

“What, y’ don’t wanna be cute?” McCree asked, grinning back. “Hate t’ break it to ya, darlin’, but yer adorable.” There was so much more he could say about Hanzo—that he was handsome, smart, charming in that shy way of his…he was _beautiful_ , McCree wanted to say.

But Hanzo wanted slow. If even a mistimed video was too bold for him…he’d have to tread _very_ carefully with him.

“ _You_ are cute,” Hanzo replied, his gaze falling to McCree’s broad chest, “I’m nothing special.”

“Horse hockey,” McCree smiled, cupping Hanzo’s jaw and turning his gaze back up. “Yer handsome, an’ smart, an’ charming, an’—” Shit. Hanzo’s eyes were wide with surprise, his cheeks burning bright, but for once, he made no attempt to hide. “S-sorry…”

“No,” Hanzo murmured, “…Please don’t stop,” he breathed, daring to reach up and stroke Jesse’s cheek in return. His beard was so soft, obviously well cared for; his eyes danced with joy and passion and warmth as much as the setting sun played across the water; he remembered what Jesse’s lips had felt like before, warm and gentle and enough to make him melt…

‘Is it time?’  
‘Definitely…’  
‘Is it time for… _that?_ ’  
‘Well, we’re still in public…’  
‘He _did_ drive you here, though, and he has to drive you home…Is he expecting it?’

McCree let his eyes slide closed as he watched Hanzo calculate and plan, gently pulling him closer as he waited, his heart tripping with anticipation.

Hanzo immediately regretted the kiss.

It started far too chaste, just a peck against Jesse’s lips. Hanzo didn’t want him to think he was a cold fish—their first kiss had been deeper than that. He quickly attempted to recover, firing on all cylinders as he pressed close, desperately working his mouth in an imitation of what he’d seen in movies, running his fingers along his belt buckle awkwardly—no, no, too much, _obviously_ too much, pull back, _**abort abort abort**_ _—!_

“Whoa there Hanzo,” McCree chuckled nervously, leaning back and resisting the urge to wipe his lips off, not wanting to appear rude, “We’re still in public, darlin’.” That was…well, ‘a surprise’ would certainly be correct. ‘An attack’ would have been accurate, too, with how… _vigorous_ Hanzo had been. Not that he didn’t appreciate vigor, or that he wouldn’t want to have Hanzo ‘attack’ in a more private setting, but…

“I…oh my god, I’m a mess, I’m sorry,” Hanzo muttered, hiding his face in his hands. He was burning up again—this time unpleasantly.

‘I’m not a mess, I’m an idiot…what the hell am I even doing here?’

“Hey now, it’s alright,” Jesse whispered, reaching up and stroking his hair, “I don’t know if yer last boyfriend wanted somethin’ outta you this fast, or if y’ read some ‘advice column’ that said you gotta put out on the second date, but we can take it slow,” he murmured, giving Hanzo a little hug. In spite of going for his belt, Jesse didn’t think Hanzo was like the kind of guy who was just looking for a quick hookup, and he was pretty sure he didn’t put off that sort of vibe, either.

“N-no, I don’t…” Hanzo began, trembling slightly. “…I don’t…h-have a last boyfriend,” he murmured, praying his words would be swallowed up by the sounds of the pier. He certainly didn’t want to admit that only a few of the advice columns he’d read suggested ‘holding off on sex until the second date’—many had subtly hinted that if you didn’t have sex on the first date, it was probably a failure. _He_ was a failure…

“Sssh, c’mere honeybee,” Jesse soothed, wrapping him up in another hug, squeezing him softly as he felt him shaking like a leaf, kissing his forehead. “You gonna be okay?”

“…I don’t know,” Hanzo whimpered, tucking his head under Jesse’s chin and hiding in the man’s warmth. He felt a simple little tune rumble out of Jesse’s chest, felt the way it expanded with each breath, the warm flannel soft on his burning cheeks. It wasn’t much, but it was something to hold onto for dear life.

Jesse pulled his hat a little lower and turned his face down, the broad brim of his hat shielding Hanzo as he felt tears begin to soak the front of his shirt.

“I w-was having a really great time, and-a-and now…” he whimpered, “I-I don’t…I’ve never dated a man before—I-I don’t know what I’m doing…I’ve messed everything up, I’ve ruined it—”

“Sssh, it’s okay honey,” he murmured, slightly bewildered by the turn things had taken, but determined to offer as much comfort as he could. “You haven’t messed nothin’ up, it’s okay…”

“I’m sorry!” Hanzo sobbed, clinging to Jesse, “I-I don’t know why I’m crying…”

“…You ain’t out, are ya, darlin’?” he asked softly, rubbing Hanzo’ s back again as he tried to find the root of Hanzo’s anxiety, “We should pro’lly set some ground rules, huh? No postin’ photos or videos of us on my pages or nothin’,” he murmured. It had been fifteen years since he’d had to sneak around and hide a partner, but he hadn’t forgotten how worried he’d been about being outed…poor little honeybee.

“That…would be best, I think,” he murmured, clinging to Jesse, none of the curiosity and barely contained excitement from earlier that evening in his touch.

“You got it, sugarplum,” Jesse purred, kissing the top of his head. It was a disappointment, of course—he wanted nothing more than to brag about his handsome boyfriend, but he needed to move at Hanzo’s pace. The last thing he wanted was to spook him…especially when he was so prone to racing ahead, hurting himself by trying to run before he was even crawling. “We can go slow, it ain’t a race t’ the bedroom. An’ I ain’t gonna get bored with you or nothin’,” he murmured, smiling into the crown of Hanzo’s head, his gaze flicking up to the warm glitter of the sunset on the water. “I’m a patient man, I can wait a little longer, if it’s for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I've been moving this week and my internet won't be hooked up until tomorrow, but trust me, Chapter 15 is coming, with two recipes (!!!) and a guaranteed good date~


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Quick note, next chapter will be up this week and will probably warrant a bump up in rating. Thank you for being so patient with me and my dorky love of cooking writing! <3 <3 <3)

Angela sighed, rubbing at her face as she staggered into the house, exhausted from her shift at the hospital. She managed to toe off her shoes before shuffling toward the bedroom, a frown on her face.

It certainly wasn’t good for a career or a relationship to fight before work—especially when ‘work’ involves 26-hour shifts and surgeries and people’s lives and your stupid boyfriend abandoning you at a restaurant over dinner that was never really for you to talk to a girl half your age.

‘Am I old enough to really be worried about that now?’ she pondered, sighing. Genji laid in their bed, too perfectly still and his breath too shallow to actually be asleep.

“Angela?” Genji called, feigning drowsiness in his voice.

“Who else would it be?” she asked, making her way in the dark toward the bathroom and shedding clothing haphazardly the whole way. She needed, in no particular order, a shower, food, and bed; circumstance would seem to dictate the shower was coming first. She winced at the bright light, swatting the shower curtain out of the way as she turned on the soon-to-be-hot water.

“Are you hungry?” Genji asked, dropping the act and cautiously approaching the bathroom.

“Starving,” she groaned, testing the water temperature. “Are you going to go eat with someone else?” she asked, shooting a sour look over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry about that,” Genji murmured for probably the fiftieth time—he deserved every one of these little barbs. He’d been a real jerk, in hindsight…

“Is anyone delivering at this hour?” Angela asked, slowly standing.

“I have food ready, actually,” he replied. “I want to make dinner up to you…”

Angela simply toned in response, waving him off as she continued undressing. “Go away, I’m all sweaty,” she grumbled, climbing into the shower and sighing at the soothing warmth of the water. Angela leaned into the equally soothing cool tile, slowly turning her body to get equal exposure to the hot and cold. She flexed her toes, slowly rolled her ankles one at a time, massaged her scalp and groaned at how gross and stringy her hair felt while half-damp…she could get away with not shaving right now, the last thing she wanted to do was bother with a razor on any part of her body. Just being clean would be enough for now.

“Dinner,” Genji called softly, carrying in a small plate of familiar mini-pizzas.

“What are those?” Angela asked, peeking out from behind the shower curtain.

“Mini-pizzas. Hanzo taught me how to make them.”

Angela blinked at the plate before looking up at Genji again. “You made them?” she asked, slightly bewildered. And the house hadn’t burned down?

“I know, right?” he laughed, “Hanzo was always good at explaining things—got me through college,” he smiled, holding the plate out. “Try one?”

She tried not to look too eager as she snagged a little roll from the plate, admiring the tiny pepperonis that had been lovingly arranged for a moment before biting into it eagerly, a moan of cheese-filled bliss leaving her as she continued wolfing it down.

“…Another?” he offered, a hopeful smile on his face.

“Mhmm,” she nodded, taking one with each hand and slowly lowering herself into the tub, leaning over the side to keep the pizzas from getting soggy. “Good,” she remarked, sighing as her feet finally found some relief.

“I really am sorry I ran off in the middle of dinner,” he said, sinking to the floor as well. “I was too focused in all the wrong places, and then I got distracted from both you and my brother. It was my failure.”

“I’ll say,” she muttered between bites, wiping a bit of sauce from her lip and sucking it off.

“You tried to correct me, and I ignored you—I’m sorry.”

“Did Zenyatta script this apology for you?” Angela asked, her gaze flicking up to Genji’s face. He did look honestly contrite…

“I don’t know about scripting, but he helped me see where I went wrong,” he replied sheepishly, leaning close and holding up another pizza as a peace offering. “Hanzo suggested the food,” Genji added, smiling.

“Hanzo is a smart man,” Angela nodded, sighing and rolling her shoulders.

“You want a backrub?” he offered, shifting closer.

“I need to wash…and eat,” Angela replied, covering her mouth with her empty hand as she spoke with her mouth full.

“That’s fine,” Genji grinned, setting the plate within easy reach and leaning forward to gently rub at her shoulders.

“G-Genji, stop, your shirt is getting all wet,” she laughed, torn between eating and giggling.

“No problem,” he grinned, pulling off his threadbare old t-shirt and making another attempt. His slightly cool fingers felt delightful against the knots in her shoulders, and Angela’s head rolled forward with a sigh.

“…I think I can find it in me to forgive you,” she sighed, looking up at Genji from the corner of her eye.

“Thank you,” he purred, his hand wandering farther down the plane of her back, rubbing in small circles and trailing down her spine. A low hum left her, lazily taking another bite of pizza.

“You know…I didn’t think I’d be in the mood when I got home, but with the apology, and the food, and the backrub…” Angela giggled, her eyes running along the edges of his enormous back tattoo, over his shoulders, down his arms…

“In that case,” Genji ventured, giggling in return as he slid his pajama pants down and pushed back the shower curtain.

“Ah! Be careful of the pizza!” Angela cried, laughing as she attempted to guard the plate from the shower spray.

“It’ll be okay,” he laughed, sliding the curtain shut to protect the pizzas and to shield them from any wandering dragon eyes outside the bathroom.

* * *

‘ _hey darlin :)  
_ _got an idea, wanna pick ur brain’_

Hanzo blinked, surprised to find a message from McCree rather than someone back at his Japanese firm pondering why his work wasn’t finished yet; it was first thing Monday morning in Tokyo, after all…

‘ _What is it?’_ he texted back, hurriedly switching between his phone and drafting a handful of e-mails on his current slate of projects.

‘ _whats that one ingredient u mentioned in ramen?  
__Noodles, pork, s.b. egg, green onion, ___???’_

Hanzo looked at the list for a moment, trying to recall the bowl he had described.

‘ _Kamaboko?_ ’

‘ _yeah!!! what is that?’_

Hanzo paused, frowning. What _was_ kamaboko? He considered his response for a moment smiling the answer came to him.

‘ _It’s almost like sausage. You don’t want to know what’s in it or how it’s made. Lol’_

‘ _lolololol!!! tell me pls?’_

‘ _It’s fish paste. I think imitation crab is kamaboko, but for ramen we shape it into narutomaki.  
__It’s kind of fishy tasting, but the flavor is subtle.’_

‘ _hmm, do they have it at the asian market?’_

‘ _I think so.’_

‘ _Wanna go shopping? I can pick u up and make dinner for u’_

Hanzo’s heart skipped a beat, a smile coming to his lips. He glanced at the work he’d managed to make up from Friday…he deserved a bowl of ramen for his effort, didn’t he?

‘ _I’d love it! Let me finish my work and I’ll be ready to go around 4:30? 5?’_

‘ _sounds great!! cant wait to see u again honeybee :)’_

Hanzo turned back to his e-mails with a smile, a smile lifting his cheeks as he hurried to finish his work. Another dinner with Jesse…!

* * *

“I’m afraid we’ll have to do without properly made ajitama,” Hanzo began, arranging their ingredients on his counter, casually checking and double checking, Jesse examining each ingredient as if memorizing it before putting it back in place. “They take 4 hours to marinade.”

“Heh, yeah, that’s a little while longer’n I wanna wait,” McCree chuckled.

“I think the restaurant from back home made broth with the same pork they served, but we’re just going to use chicken for now,” Hanzo explained, before quickly stopping himself—he had no place _explaining_ cooking to The Cooking Cowboy.

“Restaurants can afford to make bone stock on large scale—makes sense,” he smiled. “Lookit you, teachin’ me a dish,” Jesse grinned, bumping him with his hip.

“I-I don’t mean to presume,” Hanzo hurried, busying himself with the fresh noodles.

“It ain’t a problem, darlin’, this is _yer_ dish—I’m yer sous chef tonight,” he winked. “So! Chicken stock base, what else we need?”

“Soy sauce in each bowl,” Hanzo explained, “It’s a shoyu ramen,” he added, carefully measuring a tablespoon of soy sauce for each bowl. “For miso, we’d add miso paste, and for shio, we’d make kombu dashi.”

“Hang on, lemme take some notes—y’ mind if’n I record this? I can jes’ take audio, if you like,” Jesse offered.

“I don’t mind,” Hanzo smiled. “I doubt you would post any video without my permission,” he added with a little smirk.

“Yessir,” McCree grinned, saluting him as he pulled out his phone. “Alright, we’re making ramen tonight,” he announced to it, folding up a little stand for the phone and propping it up on the counter. “So you said somethin’ takes 4 hours to marinade, an’ usually we use pork broth, and we put soy sauce in the bowls, an’ that catches us up to where we are, right?”

“Yes,” Hanzo nodded, waving at the phone with a little smile.

“So the first thing we’d need to do, in theory, is stew up some broth, right?”

“Right.”

“Then the marinaded thing?”

“Yes, ajitsuke tamago,” Hanzo supplied.

“Now, can you give me a quick run-down on that?” Jesse asked.

“Certainly—soft boil the eggs, then peel them, and marinade them in soy sauce, mirin, sake and sugar,” Hanzo explained.

“…So yer teriyaki sauce, then?” Jesse grinned. Hanzo considered for a moment, before chuckling.

“Basically. A cup of water, a cup of sake, then half a cup each of mirin, soy sauce, and sugar. The eggs float, so if you tuck a paper towel into the marinade and cover the eggs, it will soak in and evenly marinade them.”

“Alright, so you marinade the soft-boiled eggs ahead of time, you get yer broth warmed up, then what?”

“We have to make the soup first—the noodles have to be eaten immediately after cooking,” Hanzo advised.

“Roger. So what goes into our soup?”

“We need some ginger and garlic, since we aren’t using pre-made Chinese soup stock,” Hanzo began, carefully slicing his ginger root into thin slices and peeling a few cloves of garlic. “Can you heat the chicken stock for me, please?”

“Sure thing,” McCree smiled, “Stock pot is where?”

“Ah, it should be…there,” Hanzo pointed his elbow toward one of the cabinets, “Though since we’re cooking for two…”

“Yeah, regular ol’ pot’ll probably do the trick,” Jesse nodded, peeking through Hanzo’s cabinets before withdrawing a large pot. “Chicken stock, ginger, garlic, anything else?”

“Ahh…some green onion. We’ll put some more on when it’s finished, too,” Hanzo said, putting the remaining ginger root aside and starting on the scallions.

“I imagine it’d be pretty easy to make a vegetarian or pescatarian version of this, too,” McCree mused, casually dropping ingredients in the pot and slowly raising the temperature.

“Yes—vegetable broth is good, as well,” Hanzo nodded. “Although without pork, it isn’t Tokyo-style ramen,” he added with a shrug. “Just changing one or two toppings makes it a “different” kind of ramen,” Hanzo chuckled. “Mostly, you can just add what you like, though.”

“Hmm…barbecue ramen?” Jesse ventured, chuckling.

“Perhaps!” Hanzo laughed, his cheeks warming. This was…this was so nice. Even the lingering humiliation from the evening before melted away as they worked together. Jesse was so charming, so easy to be around… “Ideally, those would all be cooked together when making the broth—it’s why mixing broth with Chinese soup stock is so convenient. But we’ll make do for now,” he added, shrugging. “Our chef would make the broth with the pork that was to be sliced and served.”

“Your chef?” McCree replied, incredulous. “Y’all had yer own chef growin’ up?”

“Ah…y-yes,” Hanzo said, a little embarrassed.

“Hoo boy, didn’t know y’all were _that_ fancy,” he laughed.

“Well, why do you think Genji can’t cook?” Hanzo quipped, chuckling.

“Fair point, I guess, but you get on jes’ fine.”

“I _like_ to cook,” Hanzo smiled. “It’s…freeing. I loved cooking for myself in college,” he sighed, carefully beginning to prepare the other toppings. “I felt independent for the first time in my life, just making simple dishes on my own, in my tiny kitchen.” He glanced around after another moment of reminiscing, his eyes falling on the eggs. “Ah, we need to boil the eggs!”

“No problem,” McCree smiled, “I can soft-boil with the best of ‘em.” He filled another sauce pan with water and a dash of salt. “You got any vinegar? Makes it easier to peel ‘em.”

“Ah, yes, I think there’s a bottle in the cabinet.”

“If not, it’s fine—I’ll jes’ have t’ be careful peelin’,” he said, taking a quick glance at the cabinet before shrugging. “I’ll make an extra egg, just in case.”

“Good idea,” Hanzo smiled. “This will be very mild ramen, I’m afraid,” he remarked, “I’ve got some pickled ginger in the fridge to make it more interesting, if you like.”

“Sounds good,” McCree grinned, “We’ll cook these for six an’ a half minutes at a simmer, then shock ‘em under cold water for about a minute, then peel ‘em.”

“Yes sir,” Hanzo chuckled. “Once the eggs are done, we can cook the noodles,” he said.

“Sounds good,” Jesse nodded, stirring the broth. “We’re gonna need a strainer fer this, I reckon,” he mused, looking at the garlic and ginger chunks.

“Yes, we will,” Hanzo nodded. “There should be one, ah…in the dish washer, I believe,” he said, pulling it open and withdrawing a mesh strainer. “Here.”

“Thanks, babe,” McCree smiled, kissing his cheek and earning a giggle.

“Jesseeee,” Hanzo laughed, bumping him with his hip. “You are supposed to be cooking eggs!”

“I’m cookin’, I’m cookin’!” he laughed, carefully lowering the eggs into the water and setting the timer on the microwave, “But I can still flirt with my little peach, can’t I?” Jesse smiled. Hanzo smiled, blushing and turning away for a moment.

“I suppose you are a man of many talents,” Hanzo smirked.

“So it’s been said,” McCree winked, carefully stirring the broth. “Smells awful good, don’t it?” he remarked, sampling it. “Hm…tastes alright to me, not much of the ginger or garlic’s comin’ through though. Whad’you think, hon?”

Hanzo leaned close and sipped at the soup, shrugging. “It will suffice, for now,” he replied, “Let’s let it go until I am finished with the noodles, then we can strain it directly into the bowls.”

“Roger that,” Jesse smiled, moving aside and making room for Hanzo to put on another pot of water.

“Keep the bowls close at hand,” Hanzo advised, “If the noodles are exposed to air for too long, they start to clump.”

“Sounds fussy,” Jesse said, though he obediently moved the bowls closer to the stove and searched for a colander and tongs.

“I suppose it is a bit temperamental, between the noodles and the eggs…”

“I’ve cooked worse,” Jesse smiled.

“These noodles won’t take long once they’re in the water, so be ready to move.”

“Alright, once the eggs finish, I’ll shock ‘em, peel ‘em, an’ then I’ll stand by to strain the soup,” Jesse nodded.

“Once you’ve finished the eggs, I’ll drop the noodles.”

“This is almost soundin’ like a professional kitchen,” Jesse grinned. “Don’t suppose y’ ever worked in one?”

“No,” Hanzo laughed, watching the timer reach it’s last 30 seconds. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he laughed, taking the handle and waiting eagerly. “I’ll strain the broth once into this pan once I’m through with it, an’ again when the noodles are done.”

“Yosh,” Hanzo chuckled, smiling over at Jesse. Even though the flirtation had died down as the timings grew important, he was still so calming to work with.

The timer dinged and Jesse walked the pan to the sink, carefully scooping them into the colander and running cold water over them as he emptied the hot water into the other side. He whistled a short tune as he worked, timing to himself before he carefully rolled each egg on the countertop, gingerly peeling them and letting out a relieved sigh as they peeled without incident. “Alright, eggs are finished,” he said, laying the soft-boiled eggs in a bowl.

“Noodles in,” Hanzo said, dropping them and quickly setting the timer again.

Jesse moved back to the stove with the strainer, pouring the stock through it into the now empty egg pot and turning off the heat on the back burner. “The colander is still in the sink,” he said, moving the bowls next to the sink and staging the other toppings.

“Almost ready…” Hanzo said, watching carefully. The timer went off again and he hurried to the sink, straining the noodles and portioning them into the bowls. Jesse was there in an instant, pouring the stock over the noodles right away.

“We make a good team,” McCree smiled, “What goes on next?”

“The pork slices,” Hanzo advised, carefully arranging three slices in each bowl, “Then the narutomaki,” he continued, slicing a few thin slices of fish cake and arranging them on the opposite side of the bowl. “Then the green onions,” he said, sprinkling the little green rings to one side, “And finally, the egg,” Hanzo said reverently, pulling out a sharp knife and carefully halving an egg, admiring the creamy yolks as he laid the halves in the remaining quadrant of one bowl before repeating on the other bowl.

“Now that looks like a tasty meal, right there,” Jesse smiled, grabbing his camera and zooming in on the bowl. “I might have you help me out on the ramen episode, to make sure I get everything done right. You don’t have to be on-screen or nothin’, don’t worry,” he added, “Wouldn’t wanna do a face-reveal for the legendary DragonLord89 too soon,” he grinned.

“I appreciate that,” Hanzo said, carefully carrying the bowls over to the table.

“Alright, video off,” he said, tucking his phone into his pocket and heading over to the table as well. “You got a good way in the kitchen,” he remarked.

“Thank you,” Hanzo smiled, retrieving chopsticks for himself and a fork for Jesse. “What would you like to drink?”

“What’ve you got?” Jesse asked, grinning.

“Umeshu?” Hanzo offered, grinning in return. “Sorry, I don’t have beer…”

“Ah, that’s fine,” Jesse waved, smiling as Hanzo flitted back to the kitchen, returning with two glasses of light gold liquor. It was lighter than whiskey, and reminded him of the blonde ale they’d had at the pub—but without the foamy head.

“Kampai,” Hanzo smiled, lifting his glass and taking a sip. Jesse raised his glass and clinked it with a grin, and took a swig. It was _sweet_ , and delightfully sour, with the slightest hint of the alcohol it contained. “Be careful, it’s deceptively strong,” he chuckled.

“Really? Tastes like candy,” McCree remarked, taking another sip.

“It’s comparable to wine,” Hanzo explained, “One or two glasses should be enough for one evening,” he added, smiling.

“Enough for what?” Jesse asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow. Hanzo chuckled, his cheeks warming up as he turned back to his noodles.

“I…well, enough for…” he ventured, hesitant to make any suggestions, but hoping it was enough of a hint for McCree to pick up what he was laying down.

“Mister Shimada, you’re trying to seduce me!” Jesse laughed, winking at the other man. Hanzo giggled, but made no denial. It was a nice change, from the nervousness and panic the day before. But he was in his home territory, Jesse figured—he must have been feeling more comfortable then, right? The way Hanzo grinned over his glass of umeshu certainly gave Jesse hope.

“Let us at least eat dinner first,” Hanzo chuckled, his heart skipping a beat at the thought.

‘You have work tomorrow,’ some exhausted portion of him protested, struggling under the heat and pressure that Jesse’s roguish winks and low chuckles and playful touches and soft endearments sent to Hanzo’s core.

‘I’m 38 years old, not 88—I don’t have to go to bed at 7:00 on a Sunday.’

‘Not unless it’s with a cowboy—!’

‘Ohmygod, yes, go to bed at 7:00 with a cowboy—’

‘ _If you’re over thirty and at least four years older than your date, don’t be surprised if he calls you ‘Daddy’_ \--’

Another little chuckle left Hanzo as he watched Jesse speed up, slurping his noodles down in almost perfect style. If _anyone_ ought to be called ‘Daddy’, it should be someone who looked like Jesse McCree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three recipes!
> 
> Deep Dish Mini-Pizzas
> 
> http://onelittleproject.com/deep-dish-mini-pizzas/
> 
>  
> 
> **INGREDIENTS**
> 
>   * 1 package Crescent Roll Dough
>   * Mini Pepperoni Slices (or slice them yourself from mini pepperoni sticks)
>   * Grated Mozzarella Cheese
>   * 1 small can of Pizza Sauce
> 

> 
> **DIRECTIONS**
> 
>   1. Preheat the oven to 375F.
>   2. Spray a muffin tin with cooking spray.
>   3. Lay the crescent roll dough on a cookie sheet and cut out 12 circles or 12 squares.
>   4. Place the dough at the bottom of each muffin cup. If you cut them into squares, overlap the corners so the top edge is even.
>   5. Add a layer of cheese, a spoon of pizza sauce to cover the cheese, another layer of cheese and your favourite toppings.
>   6. Bake at 375F for 15 minutes until the cheese starts to bubble and the crust is golden brown.
>   7. Let them sit for 5 minutes before pulling the mini pizzas out of the muffin tin.
> 

> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Ajitsuke Tamago, aka Ajitama (Soft-boiled Ramen Eggs)
> 
> http://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2012/03/ajitsuke-tamago-japanese-marinated-soft-boiled-egg-recipe.html
> 
>  
> 
> **INGREDIENTS**
> 
>   * Eggs
>   * 1 cup water
>   * 1 cup sake
>   * 1/2 cup mirin
>   * 1/2 cup soy sauce
>   * 1/2 cup sugar
> 

> 
> **DIRECTIONS**
> 
>   1. Combine liquid ingredients and set aside
>   2. Soft boil eggs for 6-6.5 minutes (tip: let the eggs reach room temperature before cooking, and put them directly into boiling water to make peeling easier. If you are afraid of the eggs cracking, poke a hole with a pin or needle into the round end of the eggshell into the air pocket, but this is not necessary. If you have a tablespoon of white vinegar, add it to the water to improve peeling as well--but this is also not necessary.)
>   3. Shock the eggs under cold water to stop the cooking process, and peel carefully.
>   4. Place peeled eggs in a bowl and pour marinade over them until just covered or floating.
>   5. Layer paper towels over the eggs and let the marinade soak into the paper towel for complete coverage. (Alternatively, place the eggs and marinade in a ziploc bag and press the air out)
>   6. Let marinade for 4 hours minimum, or overnight for best results.
> 

> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Homemade Tokyo-Style Ramen
> 
> http://www.japanesecooking101.com/ramen-recipe/
> 
>  
> 
> **INGREDIENTS (Makes 2 servings)**
> 
>   * Fresh ramen noodles (you can substitute angel hair pasta/capellini)
>   * (If substituting: 1 tbsp baking soda)
>   * 2 cups soup stock (Chinese [pork] soup stock is preferred, but you can replace with chicken, fish, or vegetable stock pre-simmered with ginger, garlic and scallions to suit your dietary needs)
>   * 2 Tbsp Soy sauce
>   * 1 Tbsp Cooking sake
>   * 1/2 tsp salt
>   * 1/2 tsp sesame oil
>   * scallions
>   * salted pork
>   * ajitama
>   * kamaboko (narutomaki or other)
> 

> 
> **DIRECTIONS**
> 
>   1. Prepare ajitsuke tamago and soup stock ahead of time for best results. (The eggs take about 4 hours to prepare, and if you are replacing Chinese soup stock with your own, it will take about 1.5-2 hours to simmer broth, garlic, ginger and scallions into seasoned broth. Watch the liquid level, add boiling water if it reduces too far, and strain before using! About 3 cups of broth to begin with should yield 2 cups after simmering.)
>   2. Slice pork, chop scallions, slice narutomaki, and set aside for topping.
>   3. Add sake, salt and sesame oil to broth, and let simmer.
>   4. Add 1 tbsp. of soy sauce to each bowl.
>   5. Boil water and add fresh ramen noodles. Boil for 1-4 minutes, or according to package (soft, fresh noodles should only need about 1-2 minutes to cook).
>   6. IF USING CAPELLINI/ANGEL HAIR SPAGHETTI INSTEAD:
>   7. Boil water and add 1 Tbsp baking soda before dropping the pasta, to give the pasta a texture closer to authentic ramen noodles.
>   8. Cook capellini for approx. 30 seconds.
>   9. After noodles have cooked, strain and immediately add to bowls.
>   10. Pour the broth over the noodles, covering them.
>   11. Add toppings and serve.
> 

> 
> Note: different regional styles will use different toppings, such as menma, bean sprouts, a strip of nori, pickled ginger, corn, mustard greens, etc. so feel free to experiment with toppings or replicate your favorite regional variation!


	16. Chapter 16

Hanzo’s heart was fluttering as he lead McCree upstairs by the hand, his cheeks bright and warmth settling in his belly from several glasses of umeshu.

“Uh, b’fore we start, darlin’,” McCree began, warmth gathering somewhere a little farther south, “You got protection?”

“Um…n-no?” Hanzo replied, pausing at the top of the stairs. “…Do you?”

“Not tonight,” he replied, an embarrassed smile as he waited on the stair below. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting things to go this well tonight.”

“Is it going to be a problem?” Hanzo asked, worry creasing his brow.

“Nah,” McCree smiled, leaning up and kissing his flushed cheek, “I don’t think we’re ready t’ go all the way, anyway—don’t wanna rush you,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” Hanzo smiled, leaning forward and kissing him more fully, smiling softly at the other’s warmth and the way Jesse’s mustache tickled his lip.

“’Sides, there’s plenty we can do without goin’ that far,” he added, chuckling as he took the last step, slowly walking Hanzo backward.

“I can’t wait to learn,” Hanzo giggled, his cheeks hot. He pushed open his bedroom door, the cool grays and pale blues giving the room an oddly sterile look, though it made the dark hardwood bed pop. McCree couldn’t help but notice how much he stood out in the space, with his warm red flannel and worn blue jeans…or how lonely Hanzo must look, lying in a bed that big all by himself every night.

“I ah, I’ve never done any…anything like this before,” Hanzo began, tentative.

“Never?…Not even with a woman?” McCree asked, resting his large hands on Hanzo’s hips.

“W-well, yes, but…it was a long time ago, and…not very enjoyable,” he murmured, blushing.

“It’s alright, baby,” Jesse smiled, “I’ll take real good care of you, promise.”

“…I trust you,” Hanzo whispered, pressing close to Jesse’s broad, warm chest, savoring the feeling, drawing confidence from him. “I trust you,” he smiled, his tone more certain.

“Don’t be afraid t’ tell me no, alright sugarplum?” Jesse added, smiling as he gently began rubbing Hanzo’s back and shoulders. Hanzo nodded, a shy little smile on his lips as he began returning the gesture, his curious fingers feeling out the dips and curves beneath the soft flannel. “Why don’t we start by gettin’ rid o’ these?” McCree chuckled, tugging lightly on the material of Hanzo’s shirt.

“Mmm,” Hanzo toned, pulling back slightly and unbuttoning Jesse’s shirt with barely contained enthusiasm. Jesse couldn’t help but chuckle, his heart skipping a beat. Hanzo was so starved for attention—he’d never been with a man, after all, and he must’ve known his own preferences long before Jesse came into his life… Hanzo looked like it was Christmas morning as he parted Jesse’s shirt, running his fingers over the tank top underneath and staring hungrily at the chest hair making itself obvious above the low scoop neck.

“See somethin’ ya like, darlin’?” McCree chuckled, playfully leaning back and watching as Hanzo followed without hesitation, practically giggling as he nuzzled at McCree’s chest. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright with excitement.

“It’s just like I imagined,” he whispered, grinning. It was a good look, McCree decided.

“Oh? You’ve been imagining this, huh?” McCree smirked, his own hands sliding around Hanzo’s waist, creeping down to the hem of Hanzo’s shirt.

“Maybe a little,” Hanzo replied, hiding his face in Jesse’s chest and trying to subtly inhale his scent.

“Mmm…been thinkin’ ‘bout you, too,” McCree purred in response, kissing the top of Hanzo’s head in return. It was hard not to think about Hanzo, his smile, his shy touches and his hungry kisses, and imagining what that rich, warm voice of his would sound like _moaning…_ “Let’s get you outta this shirt,” he continued, his rough hands sliding around to Hanzo’s front, tracing the top of his pants and sneaking up his taut stomach. Hanzo made an affirmative sound, hurriedly unbuttoning his own shirt.

Jesse let out a soft moan, kissing along the sharp, cleanly shaven edge of Hanzo's beard and trailing down the column of his neck. God, it felt nice, having a handsome man in front of him, touching and nuzzling and undressing him… Finally, his dry spell was ending…!

Hanzo pulled back just long enough to slide back onto his bed, Jesse tumbling after him and chuckling. He kissed his way up Hanzo’s stomach, earning more laughter and soft sounds of pleasure as he neared Hanzo’s lips again, drinking in his warmth and touches. He sat up slightly to push Hanzo’s shirt away from his shoulders, and gasped.

“Holy hell—look at that ink!” he gasped, his eyes widening as he saw the dark clouds and scales of Hanzo’s dragon tattoo snaking out of sight. “Is that a full sleeve?” Jesse asked, carefully sliding Hanzo’s shirt down.

“Y-Yes,” Hanzo replied, letting out a little chuckle as McCree leaned close to examine the tattoo.

“Didja get it done here, or in Japan?” he asked, carefully tracing the back of the dragon and earning a soft shudder from Hanzo.

“Back home,” Hanzo whispered, enjoying the gentle, reverent touches—even if he didn’t care much for what the tattoo meant, anymore.

“It’s hard t’ get a tattoo there, ain’t it?” McCree asked, slowly lifting Hanzo’s forearm and kissing the delicate skin inside his wrist. The sleeve stopped just short of the cuff of a dress shirt—that explained why he was still wearing long sleeves at the end of May in California, at least.

“Yes—it’s functionally illegal. You have to know where to go to find an artist who hasn’t been arrested for ‘medical malpractice’,” Hanzo murmured.

“You don’t strike me as the type to know where t’ go,” McCree smiled, kissing the valley of his pecs.

“It is…a long story,” Hanzo sighed. “One I do not wish to tell right now.”

“I hear ya, honey,” McCree nodded, kissing his jaw. A mystery for another day, perhaps. “It’s beautiful, though,” he added, his lips and beard brushing Hanzo’s throat. “Like you.”

Hanzo giggled softly, reaching up and running his fingers through McCree’s hair in return, sighing softly at the warm kisses and rough fingers feeling out his muscles.

“That feels…so nice,” he moaned softly, his cheeks hot as he arched and squirmed slightly beneath the other man’s bulk, his fingers sliding down McCree’s spine before he dragged his dull nails up his back, earning a rather loud, appreciative moan from Jesse.

“D-Damn, honey,” he panted, “That’s…that hit the spot,” he continued, his own cheeks warming slightly.

“You like that?” Hanzo asked, grinning as he feathered gentle touches down McCree’s spine before raking his nails across the meat of his back.

“Mmmnh, yeah,” he groaned, the low rumble of his voice sending heat straight to Hanzo’s groin. “Oh baby, y-you can rough me up a bit, I don’t mind,” Jesse breathed, nipping and mouthing at Hanzo’s collarbone with a little more intent. He sat back, his warm brown eyes raking down the smaller man’s chest for a moment before his hands fell to his belt, working the enormous buckle with expert precision. “Gotta get outta these,” he explained, pushing his jeans down a little way and revealing boxers just as plaid as his shirt.

Hanzo couldn’t help but giggle, his cheeks hot as he caught sight of the growing tent at their front. His fingers began to fumble at his own pants, eventually unbuttoning his fly and forcing the zipper down. He shimmied out of his jeans, his ears burning as he noticed the bulge in the front of his own plain black briefs. Hanzo looked away, an embarrassed sound leaving him. Jesse’s arousal was enticing—his own was just obscene.

“You okay?” McCree asked, tossing his unbuttoned shirt aside and leaning down, sighing softly as their chests just barely brushed and rubbed together.

“Y-yes,” Hanzo murmured, glad for the distraction. “Y-You look…perfect,” he breathed, drawing a quick breath as his cock throbbed, burning for the man above him.

‘We’re not going all the way.’  
‘Please please please _please!_ ’  
‘But you know full well you don’t know anything about having sex with men.’  
‘I’ve watched a _lot_ of videos—’  
‘ _Pornography is NOT educational!’  
_ ‘ _Teach me, Jesse…’_

Hanzo’s hands fell to Jesse’s waist and pulled him closer, a loud groan leaving him as the heat of McCree’s groin met his own.

“Take it slow, baby,” Jesse groaned, holding his hips still against Hanzo’s and continuing his gentle kisses and touches. “Ain’t no rush, honeybee…”

“Feels good,” Hanzo whined, digging his fingers into Jesse and blushing as he realized just how much he was groping the other man’s buttocks. “S-sorry!” he gasped, quickly releasing him and holding his hands away.

“Hey now, don’t be scared, baby,” McCree chuckled, his rough hands sliding along Hanzo’s arms, his thick fingers threading between Hanzo’s. “You can touch anywhere you like,” he purred, giving him a lazy smile.

“…A-anywhere?” Hanzo asked, his heart skipping a beat, his grip on Jesse’s hands tightening in response.

“Hmm…yeah, anywhere,” McCree winked after a moment of consideration. “I know y’ain’t had a chance t’ explore, so let’s go ‘head an’ say ‘anywhere’,” he chuckled. Hanzo chuckled, slipping his hands free from Jesse’s relaxed grip and feeling out the other man’s shoulders, biting his lip to hide his grin.

“So strong,” Hanzo whispered, his hands sliding down, feeling out McCree’s pecs and tugging the other man’s tank top upward. “O-oh my,” he laughed, covering his mouth and attempting to hide his flushed cheeks.

“What?” Jesse asked, sitting up and settling on Hanzo’s strong stomach, smirking down at the other man from his perch.

“Y-you’re so hairy!” Hanzo laughed, his hands trailing down over McCree’s firm chest, giggling childishly at the dark hair beneath his fingers. His fingertips trailed farther downward, over a belly that was slightly softer than McCree’s strength would suggest, but firmer than one might expect from a chef.

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a bear, ain’t I?” he winked, his own hands roaming over Hanzo’s body as well, keeping his touches light and polite. For now.

“Teddy bear,” Hanzo giggled, squeezing Jesse’s sides lightly and appreciating both the give of the fat and the firm muscle hiding just beneath.

“Hey now,” Jesse pouted, his lip stuck out playfully, “That ain’t what that means.”

“It’s true though,” Hanzo grinned, “Warm and soft and caring…” he continued.

“Aww, darlin’, when ya put it that way,” Jesse smiled, leaning down to give him another kiss. “An’ yer my little honeybee, so I guess that works out jes’ fine,” he continued, chuckling softly and giving Hanzo’s trim waist a light squeeze in return.

“Jesseeee,” Hanzo squirmed, bucking and giggling.

“Ticklish?” Jesse asked, laughter in his eyes.

“Y-yes,” he gasped, squirming away. “P-please, don’t tickle me,” Hanzo added, biting his lip.

“Aww…if you insist,” McCree pouted.

“I’ve never liked it,” Hanzo pouted in return.

“Guess I’ll have to find other ways t’ make you laugh, then,” McCree smiled, leaning down and kissing lightly at Hanzo’s chest. As expected, he teased a laugh out of Hanzo.

“Mmm, your beard tickles,” Hanzo laughed.

“Good tickle, or bad?” Jesse asked, hesitating for a moment.

“ _Good_ ,” Hanzo sighed, running his hands over Jesse’s shoulders again and squirming closer.

“That’s good, baby,” Jesse purred, keeping his touches at Hanzo’s waist deliberate and firm. He slid farther downward, kissing along Hanzo’s taut stomach and nuzzling at his belly button, earning another little laugh. McCree let out a soft moan of his own as he mouthed at the smooth, delicate skin just above Hanzo’s briefs. He could feel the heat radiating from just below, and allowed his hands to wander down to Hanzo’s strong thighs, wordlessly worshipping the man beneath him.

Hanzo let out keening moans and whimpers, burying his fingers in Jesse’s thick brown hair and carefully guiding him, though he hesitated to press any farther south. He had a feeling Jesse wouldn’t object, but would that be too far, too fast? …Would it be rude to ask that of Jesse if he wasn’t willing to reciprocate?

‘Oh, I’m willing—I’m _willing_ —’  
‘You don’t know _how_ to reciprocate—’  
‘All those videos have to count for something—’  
‘ _No they don’t!_ ’

McCree wasn’t bothered at all by Hanzo’s internal dialogue, kissing along his thigh and draping Hanzo’s legs over his shoulders. God, what he wouldn’t give to just have his head crushed between those thighs…

“J-Jesse,” Hanzo whimpered, sitting up and panting softly, pawing at McCree’s hands.

“Too much?” Jesse asked, shying back slightly.

“No, _no!_ ” Hanzo gasped, squirming and unhooking his legs, crawling closer and pressing his face into Jesse’s shoulder, his fingers exploring hungrily, attempting to pull McCree closer by whatever means necessary, _desperate_ for the contact.

“This is _fun_ ,” he grinned, pressing close and running his fingers along Jesse’s muscular thighs in return, just as hairy as the rest of him. ‘Oh my god, what does he look like under his boxers?’

McCree chuckled and fell over onto the mattress, tugging Hanzo on top of him with a grin. “Alright, yer turn, baby,” he chuckled, rubbing at the muscle just above Hanzo’s knees.

“M-my turn?” Hanzo asked as he found himself leaning over Jesse, the man’s shaggy hair framing his head, his playful smile flashing up at him.

“Yeah—yer turn to touch,” McCree replied, his hands sliding farther up Hanzo’s thighs and earning a shuddering moan.

“…Anywhere is fine?” he asked, his cheeks hot, his heart pounding.

“You bet,” McCree winked. He maintained his smile, even as Hanzo hesitated.

“…I-I want to touch,” Hanzo murmured, shying back slightly, “But…I don’t want to be rude.” McCree let out a soft sound, caught halfway between a chuckle and a moan.

“I think I know what y’ wanna touch,” he said, his hands sliding across his own stomach, following the overgrown trail toward the top of his boxers.

“I-I’m sorry!” Hanzo covered his face, laughing nervously, “I don’t want you to think I’m s-some sort of pervert!”

“Naw, baby…no fear there,” Jesse smiled, propping himself up and kissing at Hanzo’s shoulder. “Maybe…touch somewhere else first?” he offered, reining himself in, “Then when the moment feels right, you can explore south o’ the border a bit,” McCree winked.

“Y-You know so much more about all this,” Hanzo said in a rush, “You can take over.”

“Hey now, sssh, I ain’t tryin’ to pressure you or nothin’,” McCree soothed, reaching up and rubbing at Hanzo’s finely wrought chest, “Y’ain’t got nothin’ t’ worry about. Why don’t you start with…kissing me?” Jesse offered, smiling up at him.

A kiss, that was easy enough. Hanzo leaned down, giving Jesse a shy kiss, but one which was clearly growing in technique. McCree sighed happily, parting his lips and gently urging Hanzo deeper. He proceeded with caution, but pulled back with an embarrassed giggle as tongues brushed.

“Sorry,” McCree chuckled, reaching up and cupping Hanzo’s cheek. The next kiss was slightly more restrained, a few moments passing before Hanzo relaxed again, curiously exploring Jesse’s mouth, the lingering decadent umeshu and clean scallions, the inviting warmth, the hints of cigar smoke under it all…

Hanzo’s mouth drifted away from Jesse’s as he nuzzled at the man’s scruffy jaw for a moment, kissing along the line of his farmer’s tan, grinning into his chest as he found all that hair again—he couldn’t get over how _hairy_ he was! Everything about Jesse was rough-hewn and natural and earthy, everything he’d never had before. He pressed close, groaning as he settled between Jesse’s legs, panting softly as he ground against him. He could feel Jesse’s girth; just imagining it was almost enough to finish him.

“J-Jesse,” he panted softly, “Please…I want to touch,” Hanzo whispered, his cheeks burning.

“Go for it, sugar,” Jesse whispered, sliding one leg up and pushing the hem of his boxers down slightly—an invitation. Hanzo’s fingers ran over the cotton, groaning at the hot flesh just beneath. He felt along the man’s length, stroking him through the fabric and earning a groan from Jesse. “Ah…yeah, honey, that’s real good,” he praised, kneading at Hanzo’s hip and rocking against his hand.

“Haah, Jesse, y-you’re so big,” Hanzo breathed, his flush creeping down his neck, shuddering at the words that had actually come out of his mouth. _Was_ porn educational?

“Heh, you feel pretty big yerself there, darlin’,” McCree panted in reply, pulling Hanzo closer and moaning at the heat, the weight of the other man, “God, I bet you’d feel so good inside me,” he whispered, his cheeks hot as he squeezed at Hanzo’s firm buttocks, leaning close to nibble at the column of his throat and setting a rocking rhythm, groaning as he felt Hanzo’s cock twitching against his own through their underwear. Damn, what he wouldn’t have given for a condom or two…

“Oh please!” Hanzo cried, grasping Jesse’s shoulder as he rutted his hips against McCree’s, thankful for his gentle encouragement. “O-ohmygod,” he gasped, his timid touches and kisses replaced with frantic scratches and thrusts.

“Ah, f-fuck!” Jesse gasped, eyes widening slightly as Hanzo began to take what he wanted, throwing himself bodily into the pool after just dipping a toe in. “D-don’t rush yerself,” he panted, hoping against hope that Hanzo was as close as he was. How embarrassing would that be…?

Hanzo’s whole body begging for release, to be touched everywhere by those rough hands, to be pulled down, to be ravaged and then soothed by the gentle, sweet, sexy cowboy beneath him.

“J-Jesse…o-oh, oh Daddy,” he whispered, barely able to get that word past his lips. He could feel the laughter swelling in Jesse’s chest before it erupted from him, his strong arms wrapping around Hanzo and holding him close.

“Wh-what?!” he laughed, his cheeks hurting from how much he had already been grinning, “D-did you just…call me ‘Daddy’?”

“Y-Yes,” Hanzo giggled, hiding his face in Jesse’s chest and losing control over his laughter as Jesse continued.

“Where’d _that_ come from?”

“I-I read it somewhere, okay?” Hanzo laughed, swatting at Jesse clumsily, “I wanted to try it!”

“Did it do anything for ya?” Jesse asked, settling back against Hanzo’s pillows with a grin.

“…I don’t think so,” Hanzo laughed, “…You?”

“Naw,” he chuckled, running his fingers through Hanzo’s loose hair, eyeing the graying strands at his temples. “…I don’t think you got any business callin’ _me_ Daddy,” Jesse grinned, winking at him.

“I’m new to this, okay?” Hanzo laughed, pushing himself up slightly.

“It’s fine—we learned somethin’ today,” Jesse giggled, leaning up and pressing hot kisses to Hanzo’s chest. “…Sorry I ruined that rhythm we had goin’,” he smiled.

“I-it’s partially my fault, too,” Hanzo smiled, his cheeks hot and his cock protesting the lack of stimulation.

“C’mere, honeybee, let me make it up to ya,” McCree smiled, shifting onto his side and pulling Hanzo against him, carefully slotting their hips together and rocking them, kissing and nipping at Hanzo’s neck. “Hate t’ get you so close an’ let the night end without you coming,” he purred, slipping a hand between them and teasing Hanzo’s cock through his briefs, already wet with his dribbles of precum.

“Ha-aah! Jesse!” Hanzo cried, bucking his hips into the other’s hand desperately. He was trembling with need, holding onto McCree, wrapping himself around Jesse, the heat of the other filling him. The haze was already threatening to spirit him away at the edge of his vision when he finally let out a sob of pleasure, his whole body tensing and his cheeks flaring bright as he felt his briefs grow wet and sticky.

“Good, baby…sssh, that’s real good, darlin’,” Jesse whispered, kissing him gently and holding him close. “Oh, Hanzo…you jes’ lay there real still, lemme take care of you,” he breathed, carefully extracting himself from Hanzo’s limbs, the strength drained from them as he floated in a pleasant haze.

The lack of warmth teased a soft whine from Hanzo, and he slowly curled up on his side, trying to trap the heat from McCree’s body before it left the bed. It only took a few minutes before the bed dipped again, a moist washcloth resting on his belly.

“Here, let’s get you cleaned up,” Jesse smiled, kissing his cheek.

“Mmm? Ah, thank you,” Hanzo sighed, pushing himself up and blushing. “…I should probably take a shower,” he murmured, “I’m not sure this will be enough.”

“That’s fine,” Jesse smiled, nuzzling his shoulder and sliding close. “…I might need one myself,” he giggled, “You wouldn’t mind if I used yer shampoo, right?” he asked, earning a chuckle in reply. Hanzo leaned back against him, tucking his head beneath McCree’s chin.

“Not at all,” he sighed, hesitating for a moment. “…W-would…would you like to stay?” Hanzo asked, his heart fluttering. Would that be too forward? … _Could_ he be too forward at this point?

“I’d love it,” Jesse purred, rubbing Hanzo’s arm.

“I wake early, be warned,” Hanzo smiled, his whole body warm as he settled into Jesse’s arms.

“That’s fine,” he whispered in reply, his cheeks warming as well at the prospect of waking up with Hanzo at his side.


	17. Chapter 17

Hanzo woke a few minutes before his alarm like usual, enjoying the stillness of the room for a while before being gently told to begin his day.

Only this time, he had company.

Jesse was certainly a good bedmate—he didn’t toss or turn or get up and snoop around, and his warmth was incredibly comforting. Hanzo rolled a little closer, admiring McCree’s tousled hair and relaxed expression. He rested his head on Jesse’s bicep, a little smile on his lips.

‘God, last night was awkward.’

‘Thanks for the reminder.’

‘Still fun, though.’

‘Yeah…still fun, for sure.’

Hanzo leaned closer, kissing Jesse’s cheek with a little smile on his lips before rolling out of bed. He had plenty of work to do.

* * *

“Jesse,” Hanzo called softly, giving his shoulder a little shake. “Jesse, you have to get up.”

The man yawned and gave a langid stretch, groaning quietly. “Mornin’, honey…what time is it?”

“It’s 7:30,” Hanzo replied, smiling softly as he watched Jesse attempt to get started in the morning.

“Mmmnh, too early,” McCree groaned, more accustomed to an 8 AM alarm.

“I let you sleep as long as I could,” Hanzo said, “But I have to go to work, and you said you wanted to use the shower.” McCree sighed, rolling over.

“You gonna join me?” he asked, opening his eyes and blinking in surprise. Hanzo was already in his suit, his tie precise, his hair smoothed into a perfect ponytail, a small smirk on his lips.

“I showered quite a while ago,” Hanzo said, leaning back. “I can prepare a small breakfast while you wash your hair.”

“Aww, ain’t you sweet,” McCree smiled, sitting up and stretching for a moment, scratching his side and gathering himself for a moment.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Hanzo nodded, pausing at the bedroom door. “But please, don’t take too long. I have to leave by 8 to make it to the office in time.”

“Roger,” McCree winked, padding into the bathroom.

Hanzo wasn’t one to usually cook breakfast for himself—he normally grabbed a few pieces of fruit to eat during rush hour, or ate some cereal if he found himself with a few extra minutes in the morning. But for Jesse, he could surely whip something up, couldn’t he? He poked through his cupboards for a moment, a smile coming to his lips as he pulled out a jar of umeboshi and a package of shredded nori.

He still had a hot pot of sencha from earlier—his treat after his morning meditation—and some leftover rice from when Genji had made far too much a few days before. Perfect. He’d told himself he should make his own ochazuke, after all.

He dished up some cool rice and warmed it in the microwave for a few moments, before poking through the fridge while the rice reheated. He knew he had some salmon left over from earlier that week…just enough to flake over some rice. That, the nori and some crushed senbei for a little light crunch, and he’d have a fine breakfast.

Jesse didn’t need to know it was mostly leftovers.

He waited until he heard the man descending the stairs to pour the tea, the light, savory scents wafting from the table.

“Smells awful good,” McCree observed, his damp hair sticking out rather awkwardly. “What is it?”

“Ochazuke,” Hanzo replied, “It’s a traditional meal, combined into a soup.”

“Huh.” Jesse sat and spooned up a bit of his mysterious breakfast, glancing at Hanzo before taking a bite.

“What do you think?” Hanzo asked, sitting and glancing at the clock.

“Mmm, it’s different, but I think I like it. Don’t normally have fish fer breakfast,” he chuckled.

“Salmon is an excellent breakfast food,” Hanzo replied sagely. “Brunch, too.”

“Mmm, good point,” McCree smiled, digging in a little more readily. “Guess I’m thinkin’ a little narrow, ain’t I?”

“Perhaps,” Hanzo smirked, lifting his bowl and calmly eating his breakfast. The leftovers were far superior to the overly salty instant product, the more subtle flavors of the salmon and nori allowed to breathe without the overwhelming preservatives.

“An’ what’s this?” Jesse asked, gesturing to the jar of wrinkled rosy pink prunes.

“Umeboshi,” Hanzo replied, “Pickled plums. They’re rather sour and salty, so I thought I’d just offer them rather than force one on you,” he explained. “Be careful of the pit,” he added.

“Hmm, might as well give it a try,” McCree shrugged, tipping one out of the jar and giving it a sniff. His eyes widened, and he cautiously took a bite. Instantly his cheeks sucked in and he squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Rather sour’ was an understatement.

“Eat some rice,” Hanzo laughed, “It will cut the flavor!” He covered his mouth as he watched McCree wolf down several more mouthfuls of ochazuke.

“Dang, an’ you only warned me ‘bout the pit!” McCree managed to laugh, eyeing the rest of the umeboshi carefully.

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t like it,” Hanzo chuckled, screwing the lid back on the jar.

“Maybe I’ll keep it—see if’n I can finish it before the end of today,” Jesse replied, brainstorming ways he could tuck it away for safekeeping.

“If you insist,” Hanzo shook his head, standing up. “Are you finished?”

“Aww, guess I am,” McCree pouted, looking at the bottom of his bowl. Hanzo took it wordlessly and tucked their bowls and utensils in the dishwasher before returning to the table with a small sandwich bag.

“I wish you luck with the umeboshi,” Hanzo said, doing his best to suppress another laugh.

“Thanks, honeybee,” McCree grinned, dropping the bitten plum in the bag and sealing it.

“I’m afraid it’s time for me to go to the office, though. Our time is at an end,” Hanzo sighed.

“Fer now,” McCree smiled, standing and resting a hand on Hanzo’s waist.

“…For now,” Hanzo agreed with a smile, his cheeks warming slightly at the contact.

* * *

The commute to the office, theoretically, should have taken 25 minutes, tops; he was blessed with a home in a convenient suburb.

Only a gambling man would leave the house expecting to be in the office in 25 minutes at 8:00 on a Monday morning, of course. Traffic crept along the highway as usual, the soothing classical music pouring out of his speakers interrupted periodically by angry fellow commuters leaning on their horns as if that would improve matters.

The slowness had never particularly bothered Hanzo. Commuting in Japan was always quick, but jam-packed. At least in a car, he always had a guaranteed seat, and all of the other people were separated from him by steel and glass. In this little cocoon, he could relax a bit, prepare for his day, drink some more of the tea in his travel mug, and perhaps even catch up on a recipe or two. If all went well, he’d arrive at the office ten or fifteen minutes early, and if things went as one might expect in the city, he’d just have to stay late—not like one ever left a law office ‘on time’ anyway, especially when he could expect a flurry of emails from tomorrow morning, JST to land in his inbox in the final hours of his day.

That fair morning, he pulled into his parking space with almost twelve minutes to spare. Perhaps today was meant to be a lucky day, after the roller coaster of the past few weeks.

He smiled up at the security camera in the lobby, knowing that at this early hour, both Miss Amari, the building’s morning security guard and Winston were probably keeping an eye on the comings and goings of the building. He rode the elevator to the third floor by himself, his briefcase swinging slightly at his side as he pushed open the frosted door to the Law Offices of Morrison & Reyes, LLP.

“Good morning, Mr. Shimada!” Winston said, allowing his teeth to flash in his grin as Hanzo walked by, a smile and nod returned.

“Good morning, Winston,” Hanzo said, casting his gaze upward as usual.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Ah, yes, thank you,” Hanzo said, faltering slightly. “I think it was something I ate. I’ve been playing catch-up on work all weekend.”

“Watch it with those overtime hours!” Winston teased, as if he had any business warning others about working overtime between the office, the lab, and the lecture hall.

“Hanzo!”

He glanced around the corner, smiling pleasantly as he found Mei hurrying his way.

“Good morn—”

“It was _you!_ ” Mei cried, pointing accusingly at him, “ _You’re_ DragonLord89!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Shake (Salmon) Ochazuke**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> https://www.thespruce.com/how-to-make-a-delicious-bowl-of-ochazuke-rice-with-tea-2030932
> 
> INGREDIENTS
> 
>   * 1/2 cup cooked rice (leftovers are fine)
>   * 1/2 cup green tea (genmaicha is a good choice, but sencha works well, too; can substitute dashi broth)
>   * Flaked grilled or smoked salmon
>   * Shredded nori
>   * Various toppings, such as:
> 

>   * Arare (or crushed senbei; can substitute croutons, etc.)
>   * Toasted sesame seeds
>   * Bonito flakes
>   * Lemon zest
>   * Scallions
>   * Wasabi
>   * Japanese pickles (takuan, umeboshi, etc.)
>   * Mushrooms
>   * Pickled Ginger
>   * Seasonal vegetables
> 

> 
> DIRECTIONS:
> 
>   1. Cook rice, or reheat if using leftover rice.
>   2. Sprinkle nori, salmon, and any other toppings you have selected. (I recommend the arare and sesame, for a very basic ochazuke, but you can use as many or as few toppings as you like.)
>   3. Pour hot green tea over the rice and toppings until the rice is about half submerged.
>   4. Enjoy!
> 



	18. Chapter 18

“Hanzo, let me in!”

“I’ve got a lot of work to do!” Hanzo called back through his locked office door.

“Come on! You and Satya have been keeping secrets from me and I don’t like it!”

Hanzo pounded out a direct message, glaring at his computer screen.

_> Will I have to enter that self-defense plea? (ノಠ益ಠ)ノ_

_> >I didn’t tell her, I swear!_

_> Well she knows!_

_> >I swear, she figured it out herself!_

Satya had spent all weekend deleting her speculative comments and posts all over the internet—even in places she was pretty sure Hanzo didn’t frequent, like /r/Chuckwagon on the off chance that he was merely a lurker. Already, the ‘Who is DragonLord89?’ megathread was wondering about the loss of so many comments and wondering if something had happenedto one of the foremost detectives in the fandom.

> _Have you been tampering with evidence???_

_> >Of course not._

“Hanzoooo, have you met Jesse McCree? Do you go shopping with him? Have you cooked with him?”

 _> …Can you at least redirect Mei, please?  
_ _> Her knocking is very distracting._

_> >omw_

It only took a few minutes before suddenly, Mei was calling after Satya instead, her voice fading down the hall. That was one problem dealt with. At least, until another direct message popped up.

>> _Hanzo, come see me in my office at your earliest convenience.  
__> >-Reyes_

Oh. _Oh…_

 _> >It’s nothing bad, just checking _ _in. You sounded awful on the phone._

_> >-Reyes_

…Oh. That wasn’t so bad, he supposed, his heart rate returning to a semi-normal rate. The sick pit in his stomach, however, didn’t disappear.

* * *

“Hey, Shimada,” Reyes said, glancing up at the shy knock on his doorframe before glancing at the clock by his door. Almost lunchtime. “Getting caught up on last week’s work?”

“Yes, sir,” Hanzo said, shifting slightly. It wasn’t entirely a lie—he’d simply run out of catch-up work to do after his weekend work.

“Do you know what the issue was?” Reyes asked, rising just long enough to sit on the corner of his desk.

“…Yes?” Hanzo replied, his dedication to his ‘food poisoning’ story beginning to falter before it even left his mouth. Reyes’s slightly greying brow rose almost as much as Hanzo’s tone, and he crossed his arms slowly.

“Did you see a doctor, or is this just one of those mysterious 24-hour bugs that seem to go around offices on Thursdays?” Reyes asked. Of all the people in his firm, he wouldn’t have pegged Hanzo Shimada as having a ‘weak immune system’ on certain days of the week.

“Ah…no, I didn’t go to the doctor,” Hanzo began, fiddling with the button on his cuff. “I…This is embarrassing,” he sighed, “But I had a panic attack. I’m fine now, I assure you, I’m fit to work,” Hanzo said, plowing through his statement.

“Slow down, it’s okay,” Reyes said, his tone softening, “No need to be embarrassed. Now, are you really okay?”

“I—yes,” Hanzo replied, blinking.

“You did what you needed to do?”

“Yes…um, sir?”

“It’s alright, Shimada, I get it,” Reyes said, waving his hand in a relaxed manner, “I still get anxious in open areas. And don’t let him know I told you this, because he likes to be a big tough guy, but Jackie still has nightmares sometimes. I’m not gonna pry, but I know what it’s like.”

“Oh, no, nonono!” Hanzo said, holding his hands up and leaning back slightly. “No, y-you and Mr. Morrison are heroes—I wouldn’t dream of comparing my problems to what you saw in the Crisis…”

“It’s not a competition,” Reyes said, giving Hanzo a sympathetic smile. “I’m just saying, I don’t blame you for a second, taking Friday off. Though you should probably go see a doctor, get yourself checked out,” he advised. “Isn’t your brother dating a doctor?”

“Yes, but she’s a surgeon. I don’t think she would be much help,” Hanzo replied, a little smile coming to his lips.

“She might be able to refer you to someone. Explore your options—we can’t have our best Japanese attorney getting sidelined too often.”

“I have it under control, sir, I assure you,” Hanzo said, taking a deep breath and settling into his calm ‘professional’ mode. “It was a rough weekend, but I am back to my usual self.”

“If you’re sure,” Reyes nodded, “Just be sure to take care of yourself.”

“I will, sir,” Hanzo nodded in reply.

“And let me know what you’re bringing to the next potluck,” Reyes smirked, “So I can pick up some boring donuts for Jack.”

* * *

Hanzo happily nibbled at one of his leftover fusion bierocks, trying not to look too terribly smug as Reinhardt struggled to get the microwave to cooperate, working to understand the relationship with the numbers and the times they each spat out as he pushed each unlabeled number. He casually thumbed through his inbox, knowing he could expect a new Cooking Cowboy any minute now…

“Cooking Cowboy has uploaded ‘Cooking Cowboy – Suhoor Special: Halal Avocado Eggs Royale!’

…Huh. Halal cooking? Hanzo tapped it and held his phone awkwardly close, trying to strike a balance on volume.

“Howdy, y’all! This episode is a special ask relayed to me by my neighbor, Miss Ana,” McCree said, holding up an actual physical letter on cute stationery. “She says, ‘My daughter Fareeha gets tired of just having granola and assorted berries and fruit at Suhoor every day during Ramadan, and wants something that is halal, filling, and will give her energy all day. What recipes do you recommend?’” Hanzo had to pause the video for a moment, staring at the blank wall. How had he not made the connection between Miss Amari behind the security desk downstairs and the Miss (most likely Missus) Amari who lived next door to Jesse?

“Now, this was a tough one, since I don’t normally have to worry ‘bout cooking halal or fasting, but it was a fun challenge!” McCree’s eyes shone with enthusiasm even on the small screen of Hanzo’s phone, a little smile coming to Hanzo’s lips. “So here’s what I came up with—it’s a pretty good breakfast or brunch meal, even when y’ain’t fasting, too.

“Now, fer energy throughout the day, you want protein and carbs, so I went with a halal spin on Eggs Benedict—the muffin gives you carbs, an’ if ya use smoked salmon, you got Eggs Royale, a halal and kosher version of Eggs Benedict. The fish has heathy fats, an’ the eggs gives plenty o’ protein. An’ fer a little more healthy fat, and jes’ ‘cause I like it, I threw in some mashed avocado, too—it’s a good way to start any mornin’!”

The dish certainly looked and colorful, with warm orange salmon and bright green avocado and pale yellow Hollandaise pouring over a lightly peppered egg and a whole grain muffin.

“Now, the only problem with Eggs Royale is that it’s got a couple’a finicky components—poaching eggs takes a bit of practice, an’ Hollandaise takes a lot of attention to make sure it don’t split. Luckily, I’ve got y’all covered with my Poached Eggs video, an’ my Mother Sauces episode,” McCree grinned, pointing his finger guns the air and summoning up two links.

“So! Poached eggs can hold fer a little while, so I’d recommend poachin’ yer eggs first. Simmer the water, an’ add some vinegar to help firm up the whites, an’ poach yer eggs fer about 3 minutes. You can even poach ‘em a few days in advance—jes’ reheat ‘em in a bowl of hot water straight from the tap. Take one thing at a time, darlin’,” he smiled.

“Make yer Hollandaise the morning of, fer sure. Sauces should always be served as close t’ when ya make ‘em as possible, so whip that up an’ get ready to assemble.

“Slice some whole grain English muffins in half, an’ toast ‘em up. Whole grain gives ya energy all through the day, an’ it’s a healthier choice to start yer day with,” he narrated, setting the toasted muffin halves aside.

“Then make some mashed avocado. I love me some avocado toast, mashed or sliced, so let’s mash up some avocado—then you can use the other half of the lemon we used in our Hollandaise,” McCree suggested, scooping avocado in a bowl and squeezing a lemon into it, a sprinkle of sea salt, a dash of pepper flakes, all completely effortless. “Mash it all up real good, an’ spread it on yer muffins real thick-like.”

“Next, get yer salmon on here. You can buy some cold-smoked salmon, or pick up some lox, but _not_ gravlax—it’s often made with brandy or other alcohol, so it might not be halal unless you double check the label for certification, or make yer own gravlax. Hot-smoked salmon is good, too, but it usually ain’t pre-sliced like cold-smoked or lox, so you either gotta slice it yerself, or flake it onto yer muffin.

“Then, carefully lay one of yer poached eggs on top, an’ pour that velvety Hollandaise all over it,” McCree grinned, the sauce like liquid sunshine. “Give it a crack of pepper, a pinch of sea salt, an’ dig in,” he smiled, presenting the dish to the camera. “You cook yer eggs ahead of time, make mashed avocado the night before, an’ it’ll take you ‘bout 10, 15 minutes tops to put together a Suhoor meal that’ll stick to yer ribs all day. Make sure ya get two glasses of water in you, an’ yer good to go! Ramadan Mubarak!”

Hanzo rose from the table and wandered back to his office, still mulling over how connected everyone around him seemed to be. He’d been so close to Jesse all this time, and he’d had no idea…what a small world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Avocado Eggs Royale** (halal Eggs Benedict inspired by https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uF0yT58i2s4)
> 
> **INGREDIENTS**
> 
> 2 English muffins  
> 4 eggs  
> 4 pieces of salmon, smoked or grilled  
> 2 teaspoons vinegar  
> 1 avocado  
> Sea salt  
> 1/2 lemon  
> Hollandaise sauce
> 
> **DIRECTIONS**
> 
>   1. Slice your muffins and toast them
>   2. Bring a pan of water to a simmer, then add vinegar.
>   3. Make your Hollandaise sauce (see below). If you are cooking by yourself, it's best to either make your sauce first or your eggs--don't try to manage both at the same time, as poaching eggs and making a Hollandaise at the same time can be tricky!
>   4. Poach eggs. Crack them into small bowls or ramekins, then slide them one by one into the simmering water and cook for 2-4 minutes. Cooking for 2 minutes will usually produce a soft egg, and 4 will usually give a firm poached egg, but it depends somewhat on the size of the egg and the temperature they started at. (If you are only making 1 or 2 servings, stir the water with a spoon before carefully sliding in the cold cracked egg, then once it has begun to solidify, add the other; if cooking more than 2 servings, do not stir the water.)
>   5. Remove eggs with a slotted wooden spoon
>   6. Cut the avocado in half and remove the pit. Scoop flesh into a bowl
>   7. Add lemon juice and sea salt, and mash. Spread onto toasted English muffins.
>   8. Place smoked or grilled salmon on top of the avocado.
>   9. Lay a poached egg on top of the salmon.
>   10. Pour Hollandaise sauce across the top of each muffin, and season to taste.
> 

> 
> (Alternate possibility: If you prefer sliced avocado on your toast, try buttering the muffin, then layering on the salmon, then layering sliced avocados, then the egg, then the Hollandaise. Or leave out the avocado and use fresh butter. The choice is yours!)
> 
> **Hollandaise Sauce**
> 
> **INGREDIENTS**
> 
> 4 egg yolks  
> 1/2 cup melted unsalted butter  
> Half a lemon  
> Salt and pepper
> 
> **DIRECTIONS**
> 
>   1. Prepare a double boiler, or simmer some water in a pot
>   2. Whisk egg yolks and lemon juice together in a stainless steel bowl
>   3. Place bowl over the simmering water, making sure the water does not touch the bottom of the bowl. (If it touches, it will break 100% of the time)
>   4. Whisk the egg yolks while slowly drizzling in the melted butter. Go very slowly to keep the sauce from splitting.
>   5. Continue whisking until the sauce thickens and doubles in volume.
>   6. Remove from heat, and add salt and pepper to taste. (Other tasty additions include cayenne or cilantro, but it's all up to you)
> 

>   * If your sauce breaks: remove it from heat immediately and slowly add in a few teaspoons of boiling water a few drops at a time.
>   * If your sauce is still broken: slowly whisk in another egg yolk.
>   * If it's STILL broken: Start over D:
> 



	19. Chapter 19

“Good afternoon, Miss Amari,” Hanzo said, “I don’t usually see you on the afternoon shift.”

“Well, schedules change,” Fareeha shrugged. “Not much I can do about it.”

“Are you not the head of security?” Hanzo asked, chuckling.

“Of course—so when someone needs a last-minute schedule change, it usually falls on me to pick up the slack,” she smirked in reply.

“Isn’t Ramadan coming soon?” Hanzo began, attempting to sound casual.

“Yes, next week,” Fareeha replied, slightly surprised. But why wouldn’t Hanzo know that? He was a smart guy. And there had to be someone up in the firm who was a Muslim, based on their international nature.

“I just saw a video online about halal food—ah, it was actually requested by your mother. I…hope that didn’t come out sounding as strange as it sounded to me,” Hanzo chuckled, holding out his phone with both hands. Fareeha frowned for a moment, but when she tapped the play button, her eyes lit up.

“Aww, Jesse! How thoughtful of him!” she grinned, “I didn’t know you watched his show! I honestly thought it was just my mom,” Fareeha laughed.

“It’s actually quite popular in the office,” Hanzo smiled. “Do you cook much?”

“Oh no, I mostly go for smoothies and salads and things that notably _don’t_ need cooking,” Fareeha replied. “Maybe I can get Mom to help me with this, though—or I can just ask Jesse,” she laughed.

“How long have you known him?” Hanzo asked, taking his phone back.

“Oh, since he moved out here—he baked lemon bars for everyone on the block as an introduction,” she said, a wistful smile on her lips. “He still makes them for my birthday every year. They’re amazing.”

“Hanzo!”

He froze at the voice, his head slowly turning as Mei headed in the front door, pushing her glasses up.

“You’ve been avoiding me!”

“…Have I?” Hanzo replied, glancing back and forth between the two women.

“Yes!”

“Uh oh, somebody’s in the doghouse,” Fareeha joked, heading back into the security office. She didn’t need to listen in on an office spat.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were DragonLord89?” Mei frowned, her fists planted firmly on her hips. Hanzo drew and held a breath, his heart speeding up a bit.

“I…didn’t want anyone to know,” he murmured, his cheeks hot.

“Why?” Mei asked, slightly surprised by his response. “We talked in the comments section—you knew it was me, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I recognized your name,” Hanzo said, his eyes on her pumps.

“Well why the secret?” she pouted. “Are you embarrassed?”

“…I was at first,” Hanzo sighed, gesturing toward the elevators. “And then when I started talking to Jesse, I just—”

“So you ARE talking to him?! Ohmygod, are you e-mailing with him?”

“Um…y-yes, but not as much now…” Hanzo replied, cheeks warm. “I, ah…we text.”

“Shut up!” Mei gasped, her eyes wide.

“I-I’m giving him legal advice,” Hanzo said quickly, “We’re trading skills.”

“Uh huh,” Mei grinned, “You were at the Asian market with him, weren’t you?”

“We were there at the same time, we weren’t there together,” Hanzo replied.

“Nuh-uh, you were there yesterday! I saw you two leaving in his truck—you left the parking lot before I could get out of the car, but it was definitely you two. I’d recognize that hat and your scarf anywhere,” Mei grinned, wagging her finger at Hanzo’s evasion. His eyes widened, and his heart jumped into his throat. She pushed the button for the third floor calmly, grinning up at Hanzo.

“…So you cooked with him?”

“…Y-yes,” Hanzo squeaked out, his cheeks burning. They had cooked the night before, that was certain.

“Is that his real accent?” she asked, cocking her head to one side.

“Ah, yes,” he replied, letting out a breath he’d been holding as the questioning turned innocent.

“Did he give you a kiss?” Hanzo somehow managed to choke on air, Mei laughing and quickly spewed a long chain of ‘Sorry’s as the doors slid open, her cheeks warm at her own line of questioning. The elevator doors slid shut again with Hanzo still inside, bewildered and slightly horrified by what had just transpired.

* * *

‘Howdy y’all, I’m Jesse McCree, the Cooking Cowboy – AMA’

“Jes’ like that?”

“Yup,” Hana nodded, “Look at you, doing your first live event,” she grinned, nudging him as he typed into the description box.

‘Howdy! I’m Jesse McCree, host of the YouTube cooking series “The Cooking Cowboy, with Jesse McCree”. I’ll answer your questions and stream the answers to my official channel (the livestream is already up—hey y’all!) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iqs...’

“Oh wow, we’ve already got 25 viewers,” McCree chuckled, waving into the camera.

>omg hi!!!!!  
>We’re all here!  
>It’s only 30 viewers, we’re not all here lol  
>sup  
>Hello!  
>Hi im your biggest fan  
>Cooking Cowboy!!!  
>(: (: (: (; (:

“How many people usually watch a livestream?”

“Depends,” Hana shrugged. “I mean, when I stream scrims with other big names, I can get like, 20,000 live viewers, depending on when I do it? But I’m streaming to multiple platforms, and like, if I’m playing against a Korean player then it’s all in Korean so I don’t get as many American views, but the Korean traffic is off the charts. It’s hard to judge sometimes.”

“Oh dang, we’re up to 396 already!” McCree grinned. “Howdy YouTube an’ Reddit! We’re broadcastin’ live from the Cooking Cowboy kitchen. Ain’t never done one o’ these before, so I think what I’m gonna do is…I’ll answer the Reddit questions, an’ Hana’ll kinda curate the YouTube questions an’ feed ‘em to me. I’m sure some questions will need more in-depth answers later, like recipes an’ such, so there’ll be a ‘Top 10’ video or somethin’ later, maybe fer Thursday’s video.”

“Okay, hey, first YouTube question—‘What’s your favorite comfort food?’” Hana asked from slightly off-screen.

“Ooh, I love me some cornbread. Always have some cornbread muffins ‘round the house,” he grinned. “Alright, looks like we’re startin’ to get some questions on the Reddit thread, umm… ‘What’s the weirdest thing you’ve eaten?’,” he grinned. “Pro’lly that durian from our shopping episode,” Jesse laughed, typing away.

> [–]Lucicana  
>  What's the weirdest thing you've ever eaten?
> 
> [–]CookingCowboy  
>  Durian! (: Me and Hana forced down a mouthful each. Nice texture, but the smell & taste wasn’t pleasant.

> [–]AlphaShun  
>  Have you been to culinary school? I’m thinking about going and wondered if you had any advice.
> 
> [–]CookingCowboy  
>  No culinary school for me, I’m afraid. I grew up cookin with Mama back home, and I worked in a gastropub in college—made it up to saucier before I graduated, and worked in all sorts of kitchens when I moved out to Cali permanently.
> 
> I do teach and attend cooking classes locally, though! ;)

“Hah!” Hana laughed, “YouTube chat asking ‘Do you like pineapple on pizza’.”

McCree let out a guffaw and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “It ain’t fer me, but I don’t hold it against ya if y’all like it!”

> [–]Solarno  
>  Are there any well-known chefs you look up to?
> 
> [–]CookingCowboy  
>  In my heart-shaped locket, one side’s got a picture of my sweetheart, an’ the other side’s got a pic of Julia Child. <3

“Guess that answers those ‘Do you have a boyfriend or girlfriend’ questions floatin’ around, too,” Jesse chuckled, scratching at his scruff a little self-consciously.

“Oooooh, the chat’s blowing up now,” Hana grinned, pointing at a cascade of questions rolling in on YouTube.

>omg!  
>sweetheart??????  
>r u seeing someone????  
>Hello! You look just like my husband did when he was younger, very handsome!!!! I think you’d look good with my daughter, LOL! Much love, Margie  
>WHO U SEEIN  
>r u single  
>whos the lucky girl?  
>i knew something was up when you posted that engagement chicken ep!  
>or taken  
>awwwwww so it’s true, you’re seeing someone?  
>WHO IS IT???????  
>lol who tops  
>was that a joke???  
>whos ur boyfrien

“Hoo boy, um…guess I got some explainin’ to do,” Jesse laughed nervously, watching as the questions began to roll in from all sides. “Yes, I got me a sweet pea, an’ he’s _very_ handsome, but he ain’t keen on bein’ on camera, so he won’t be makin’ any appearances on the show any time soon.”

> [–]DubyaDubyaDubyaDot  
>  What goes best with dragon?
> 
> [–]CookingCowboy  
>  Cuddles! They might be scaly and squirmy, but they’re affectionate pets.

> [–]Nonlineara  
>  What do you think of my cooking?
> 
> [–]CookingCowboy  
>  Uhh, I don’t think that’s one of my recipes, y’all. lol

“Oh my god, that looks horrible,” Hana giggled, leaning into the frame.

“There’s been ‘bout 10 o’ these,” Jesse chuckled, “But I think that’s jes’ about the worst thing I’ve seen.”

“That’s about my cooking level,” she laughed, elbowing him.

“How can you be my camerawoman an’ editor an’ not have picked somethin’ up in all this time?” McCree laughed in return.

“Oop, another YouTube question, ‘What do you recommend for a special date night?’ Oooooh,” Hana grinned.

“If yer havin’ a night in, I recommend…whatever yer best at cooking! A special evening ain’t the time to try out a new recipe fer the first time. I’d say you should’ve cooked whatever dish yer makin’ at least three times ‘fore givin’ it to yer special someone. First time, make it jes’ like the recipe says, second time make some adjustments t’ suit yer tastes, and third time make any final tweaks,” McCree advised. “Jes’ make sure you can cook it without a hitch. Alright, what else we got?” he asked, leaning over and looking at Hana’s chat feed.

>r u gordon ramsay lol  
>WHO IS DRAGONLORD89???  
>are you a real cowboy?  
>How big are you? I MEAN YOUR MUSCLES LOL  
>how do you make raw milk  
>WHO IS DRAGONLORD89???  
>what time is it  
>Eating meat is genocide  
>have you ever eaten a ghost pepper?  
>WHO IS DRAGONLORD89???  
>Yeah, who is DragonLord89?  
>Is DragonLord89 even real?  
>Is that your real accent? Lol  
>WHO DRAGONLORD89

“…Alright, we’re gonna take another live question from Reddit,” he declared, refreshing the page and staring at one of the top-voted questions.

> [–]DragonLord69  
>  Who is DragonLord89? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“…Dang, y’all ain’t gonna let this one lie, are ya?” he sighed. “Alright, y’all, gotta come clean. DragonLord89 is…a fan of the show. The end,” McCree said, trying to keep the discomfort from his face. Hanzo had made it abundantly clear that he wanted his real identity separate from his internet handle…

“Boy, you know exactly who DragonLord89 is! I saw your comments!” Hana frowned, pointing accusingly into the camera.

> [–]DragonLord69  
>  Who is DragonLord89? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> [–]SymmetryInMotion  
>  It’s as Miss D.Va said—you know who he is.
> 
> …As do I. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> [–]SymmetryInMotion  
>  Although I also know that DragonLord89 does not wish for his identity to be revealed yet. Hence why I deleted my speculation posts.
> 
> [–]Solarno  
>  I was wondering why you deleted everything. Did you actually get in contact with him?
> 
> [–]SymmetryInMotion  
>  Yes.
> 
> [–]CookingCowboy  
>  DragonLord89 is a fan of the show, and a friend. He’s not an ARG clue or anything, just a normal person. (:
> 
> [–]Lucicana  
>  So you know him in person?
> 
> [–]CookingCowboy  
>  Yes I do.
> 
> [–]LuzzyLou
> 
> Will he be a guest cook someday???
> 
> [–]CookingCowboy  
>  Prob’ly not ):
> 
> [–]GnomeTactician  
>  Aww, well there go all my questions.

“Better get some new questions,” McCree said, refreshing the page and minimizing the quickly growing DragonLord thread.

“Question from YouTube, ‘Do you own a horse?’,” Hana asked. “And if you do, can I ride it? I love horses.”

“Well, I ain’t got a horse anymore—we had ‘em growin’ up. Saw somebody ask further up in the chat if I’m a real cowboy, and yessir I am—genuine and bona fide,” he grinned, winking. “But sadly, I live in the city, an’ keepin’ horses ain’t really convenient ‘round here.”

“How many hats do you have?” Hana asked. “That’s not a chat question, I just wanna know.”

“I got five,” McCree replied, without even pondering. “Got ‘bout twelve pairs of boots, too, ‘fore ya ask,” he grinned.

> [–]IffyMonkey  
>  I have Celiacs, and my husband is allergic to nuts and tends to get ulcers (he’s a first responder, so it’s a high stress job). Do you have a list of allergen replacements and ingredient substitutes all in one place? I’ve heard you mention substitute ingredients a few times, but I couldn’t find a video dedicated to the topic. Thanks, love your show!

“Ooh, now that’s a mighty fine idea there, IffyMonkey!” McCree grinned. “Jes’ a few off the top of my head that y’all might already know about: you can use rice milk in place of cow milk, ¼ cup of unsweetened applesauce replaces one egg, an’ there are _tons_ of different types of flour out there! I like oats as a gluten-free replacement for flour—it’s a good replacement regardless, ‘cause it’s got a lot more vitamins an’ fiber than plain white flour, an’ you can usually substitute about a third of yer flour fer oat flour an’ still get good consistency in yer dough or batter.

“Jes’ keep in mind if yer goin’ 100% oat flour in yer recipes that what yer bakin’ won’t rise as much, so you’ll need more yeast or bakin’ powder t’ get things to rise. Also, it’ll dry out faster ‘cause oats soak up more moisture than all-purpose flour, so adjust accordingly. Hana, jot down ‘Do an episode about allergens’, alright? Let’s try t’ work that in here pretty soon,” he said, swiveling in his chair for a moment.

“Got it. Sounds like a bunch of research,” she remarked.

“I’ll be fine. It’s what I do,” he winked.

“Alright, YouTube asks ‘what’s one thing you wish you could make?’” Hana asked, trying to sneak a stick of gum in her mouth when she thought Jesse wasn’t looking.

“Divinity,” he replied almost immediately, his voice a groan. “That there’s some finicky candy! Dang if I don’t feel like a bad Southerner, ain’t able to make me some divinity…”

> [–]BubbleSparkles  
>  How did you get started on YouTube? What made you want to do it?
> 
> [–]CookingCowboy  
>  Ooh, good question! All started when Miss Hana moved in next door. I helped move all her streaming and recording equipment in and got her studio all set up. Then I kept bringing food over for her family and she suggested we record some cooking tutorials for fun. My first video took about 5 takes before I was really comfortable in front of the camera! (Them old videos got deleted right away lol)
> 
> I thought it just sounded like a fun thing to do on weekends at first, so I ended up recording two or three episodes on weekends, an’ Miss Hana would post them up through the week. After a couple of months, I saw that it had the best potential return on everything I was doing at the time, so I put all my other side hustles on hold and focused 100% on YouTube. Finally we started pullin’ in enough ad revenue that I could quit one of my day jobs and work with food full time! (My day job is still food related.)
> 
> [–]Goofasaurus  
>  What’s your current day job?
> 
> [–]CookingCowboy  
>  Food writer! Y’all have probably read my articles but never knew it ;)
> 
> There’s my cookbook and the official blog, of course, but I also write freelance for several food magazines and major outlets under a few pen names, and I’m working on another manuscript! Probably won’t be ready to send to the editor until next year, though.
> 
> It’s hard work, but I knew what I loved and I was willing to do anything to support my passion. Getting out of accounting was the best day of my life. <3

“Aww, what a sweet comment,” Hana smiled. “YouTuber says that you remind them of their grandson.”

“Aww, well thank y’ kindly, Gramma,” McCree smiled.

“Ohh, ‘What’s one piece of equipment everyone should have in their kitchen?’” Hana asked, swiveling in her chair as well.

“It’s somethin’ you pro’lly already got: honing steel! Y’all have seen ‘em in movies or on TV to show someone knows what their doin’ in the kitchen, right? And you’ve seen me use my honing steel in episodes where I gotta cut meat. A dull knife is the most dangerous thing in a kitchen, an’ if you hone yer knives regularly, an’ the’ll feel like new every time. Now, don’t go wavin’ it around, but run it along the steel like yer tryin’ to carve an imaginary turkey,” Jesse said, miming honing a knife on camera.

“We should probably take a quick break,” Hana advised. “Here, I’ll pause the stream, you toss in a note on the description that we’ll be back in...what? Fifteen minutes? Half an hour?”

“Half an hour sounds good—I can cook ya up somethin’ to eat,” he grinned, waving at the camera.

“Oooh! Lucky me!” Hana giggled before the feed went dead.


	20. Chapter 20

Hanzo groaned as his phone dinged. His client, a construction firm, was unusually nervous about a relatively simple arbitration case, but he wasn’t sure what else he could do at this point in the process to soothe them, to reassure them they were in good hands.

‘ _hey honeybee :)  
_ _u busy?'_

‘ _A little, but not too busy for you.’_

‘ _i can txt u later its fine’_

‘ _No, please, save me. www’_

‘ _k lol_  
_well Miss Ana is planning a big eid feast_  
_u wanna be my +1?_ ’

‘ _A what feast?’_

‘ _eid. End of Ramadan  
_ _im cooking a bit :)’_

‘ _That sounds wonderful. Should I bring anything?’_

‘ _u dont have to darlin_  
_just make sure its halal_  
_no cooking wine or nothin’_

‘ _I think you had an episode with an Eid dish, didn’t you?  
_ _I could make that.’_

‘ _ooo u did ur homework ;)_  
_sounds good_  
_c u Sunday! <3’_

Hanzo smiled as he turned back to his stack of papers, breaking out a new highlighter before continuing with renewed vigor. He was going to litigate the heck out of this case.

* * *

Hanzo had gone all out for his second double ka meetha, relishing in preparing his dessert after having received Satya’s stamp of approval last time. Pistachios, figs, almonds, apricots, cashews, dates…he even tracked down edible gold and silver leaf to flake over the dish, like Jesse had mentioned in the video. He’d never driven as carefully in his life as he did on his way to Miss Ana’s house, taking turns as slowly as possible to avoid shifting the dish on his passenger’s seat.

Once he turned onto the street, it wasn’t hard to find his destination—paper lanterns had been strung up around the front yard, and a long banquet-style table sat in the middle. An unpleasant icy shock hit his gut as he noticed now many of the plates were empty; had he missed it? Hanzo fumbled for his phone—Jesse had said 7 PM, and he triple-checked the time, watching the clock tick over from 6:32 to 6:33, just to be certain. He stared at the clock before looking at the phone again, triple-checking the address. This was definitely the place…

He slowly got out of the car, carrying his dish of double ka meetha close as he shyly approached the house.

“Hey, DragonLord,” a familiar voice called from nearby. Hanzo’s head whipped around, and he spotted Hana sitting on Jesse’s porch, her hair up in a messy bun and a cold pitcher of lemonade in hand; a few feet behind her sat a young man he’d never seen before—a friend, perhaps? “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Good evening, Miss Hana,” Hanzo called in return, diverting to cross the driveway with a practiced smile. “I’m not late, am I?”

“Nope,” she grinned, “You’re lucky—you got invited to the _family_ dinner.”

“Really?” Hanzo asked, his eyes widening slightly. That didn’t seem right—he’d never actually met Miss Ana.

“Yeah, you’re McCree’s plus-one,” Hana replied, pouring a glass of lemonade for her friend, who looked like he must be boiling in his well-worn hunter green _Synaesthesia Auditiva Turnê Mundial_ hoodie and mirrored shades. “He brought me along last year, but it’s all grown-ups—pretty dull,” she explained. “So I just do the neighborhood party.”

“It seems like quite an elaborate event,” Hanzo mused, looking back at the long table and the many chairs and games that had been laid out.

“Yeah. Too bad you didn’t come earlier, you missed the show,” the young man said, sipping at his glass.

“Ooh, yeah! Do you like house music?” Hana asked.

“ _What_ music?”

“Psh, nevermind, you’re as old as Jesse,” Hana huffed, waving him off.

“Aww, c’mon, D.Va, all old people aren’t squares. ‘Sides, he made me brigadeiro,” the young man added, picking up a sprinkle-covered bonbon. “He can’t be all bad.” Hanzo stared longingly at the ball of chocolate before glancing back down at his dessert already in hand.

“Is Jesse inside?” Hanzo asked, adjusting his hold on the baking dish.

“He’s next door. Go on, he’s probably wondering where you are,” Hana smiled, propping her flip-flop-clad feet up on the railing of the porch.

“Ah, yes, you’re probably right,” Hanzo replied, retreating from the porch.

“Good seeing you face-to-face,” Hana grinned, waving.

“Who was that, anyway?” the young man asked, fanning himself casually and peering over his shades.

“That’s McCree’s lawyer boyfriend,” Hana said, sipping through a striped bendy straw.

“Ooh! Hey, you think he could have a look at my standard contract sometime? I wanna have a new one ready before my next world tour…”

“Think he might give us a two-for-one deal?”

“I can hear you, you know,” Hanzo called, not even halfway across Jesse’s driveway.

“Whaddya think, DragonLawyer?” Hana called, hopping up from her seat and leaning over the railing. “I’ve got some US teams trying to sign me to their rosters. Got any experience with e-sports contracts?”

“More than you might imagine,” Hanzo chuckled, turning back toward the Amari home. “I believe you have my work e-mail.”

He felt a touch of nervousness as he rung the doorbell, shifting from one foot to another and feeling the eyes of Hana and her friend on him. He heard someone approaching the door with enthusiasm, blinking as Fareeha pulled the door open, wearing a brightly colored hijab decorated with jeweled pins, a dress that she clearly didn’t typically wear, and intricate henna on her hands.

“Hanzo? What are you doing here?” she asked, not hiding either her surprise or enthusiasm.

“Ah, J-Jesse invited me,” Hanzo said, fidgeting with the tin foil covering his dish.

“You actually know Jesse?” Fareeha grinned, “What a small world! Well, the more the merrier. Eid mubarak!” she smiled, stepping back and welcoming him inside. Hanzo toed off his shoes and carefully arranged them next to Jesse’s cowboy boots, smiling at them for a moment. “Mom! Our first guest is here!”

“Oh? Who is it?” A small, older woman bustled out of the dining room, her hijab a vivid sapphire and her remaining eye nearly closed, she was grinning so wide. “Aah, you must be Jesse’s partner!”

“P-partner? Oh, oh no, w-we’re—we’re dating, but I-I don’t know if we’re _that_ serious yet,” Hanzo sputtered, his cheeks flaring bright.

“There’s no need to be so anxious,” Ana smiled, patting Hanzo on the arm. “What have you got there?”

“Oh, I brought something,” Hanzo said, holding the baking dish out with both hands, “It’s an Indian dessert, Jesse posted it on his channel…” Ana pulled back the tin foil and peered inside with a grin.

“Mmm, lovely,” she praised, taking the dish. “Does it need reheating?”

“Ah, it might be good, thank you,” Hanzo replied, folding his hands awkwardly.

“I’m sure Jesse will know what to do with it,” Ana chuckled. “You’re a little early; Fareeha, why don’t you show him around a bit?” she suggested, returning to the kitchen. “Unless you kids want to come help in the kitchen,” she added.

“I’ll watch the door,” Fareeha quickly volunteered, backing away. Cooking had never been her strong suit, not by a longshot.

“I don’t mind helping,” Hanzo replied, looking between the two women and following Ana’s slight form.

The kitchen seemed a lot more cramped than it had looked in the video, but Hanzo presumed that was due to the large number of pots, pans, plates, bowls, trays, dishes and skillets filling the counters, being constantly tended by Jesse. Far from panicked, Jesse looked in his element. Ana managed to nudge a few other trays aside to find a place to set Hanzo’s baking dish before joining the fray once again at Jesse’s side.

“Hey, Hanzo!” Jesse called, leaning out of the kitchen for a moment to loop an arm around Hanzo’s waist and giving him a warm squeeze, pecking him on the cheek. “Glad you could make it, honeybee.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” Hanzo smiled, “I needed the diversion.”

“Everyone else should be arriving soon,” Ana said, looking at the plates before lifting a large barbecue beef brisket—clearly one of McCree’s dishes—and hefting it out to the dining room. “Hanzo? Could you help me, habibi? Bring that bowl of green beans, please.”

“Y-yes, ma’am,” Hanzo replied, lifting a lovely smelling side dish and following. “You must have been cooking all day,” he remarked.

“Jesse and I share a passion for cooking,” Ana smiled, “It’s a lot of work, but I love cooking Eid meals with him.”

“I heard that this was the…‘family dinner’?” Hanzo ventured, setting his dish down and following Ana back to the kitchen to shuttle more food to the table.

“That’s right.”

“How long have you known Jesse?”

“Oh, since he moved here,” Ana said, handing Hanzo a bowl of couscous before reaching for a pot of ful. “Almost fifteen years now, isn’t it, Jesse?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jesse called back, pouring a generous amount of rich brown gravy into a boat.

“He’s practically like family now,” Ana smiled, “I’d love to have a son-in-law half as warm and sweet as him, if Fareeha would just settle down with someone…”

“Moooom,” Fareeha whined.

“But I’ve got Jesse, so it’s alright, I suppose,” Ana smirked, looking up as Jesse began carrying out dishes of falafel and mashed potatoes and grilled corn and freshly made slaw.

“How many are we expecting?” Hanzo asked, watching with amazement as even more dishes emerged from the kitchen.

“A few,” Ana said, glancing up as the doorbell rang again. Fareeha had the door open in moments, another happy cry of ‘Eid mubarak!’ filling the foyer. Hanzo peeked around the corner, curious about Ana’s extended family.

“M-Mr. Morrison? Mr. Reyes?” Hanzo stuttered, wide-eyed at the men standing in the doorway, unlacing their dressy shoes.

“Shimada?” Reyes blinked, his hand braced against the doorframe as he pulled off a shoe. “…Fancy seeing you here.”

“Howdy Commander Reyes, Captain Morrison,” Jesse said, standing quite straight in the doorway next to Hanzo.

“Jesse! How’ve you been, kid?” Morrison smiled, easily striding across the room and slapping Jesse on the shoulder.

“Oh, very well, sir, very well,” Jesse replied, his gaze falling in deference.

“And you, Hanzo?”

“I-I’m fine, Mr. Morrison,” Hanzo said, completely bewildered.

“Well, shucks, I was gonna introduce y’all, but it seems like you already know Hanzo, sir,” Jesse laughed softly, sliding an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders.

“Of course, he’s one of our best Japanese attorneys,” Reyes chuckled. Hanzo was too embarrassed to point out that he was the _only_ Japanese attorney at Morrison  & Reyes, LLP.

“Torbjörn and his wife were in the car behind us, but we got separated at a light,” Morrison explained, “I imagine they had to drop off the herd before coming back.”

“It must be hard for them to get a quiet evening to themselves,” Ana remarked, ducking back into the kitchen.

“Well, they’re still going to have Brigitte to deal with,” Reyes smiled, giving Jesse’s hand a firm shake. “Good to see you again, Jesse. I hear you’ve finally got a cookbook coming out?”

“It’s already out, sir,” Jesse smiled, “It’s…actually how I met Hanzo here,” he added, looking down at Hanzo. His smile faltered slightly at Hanzo’s expression, his face frozen and his cheeks bright red.

“I think it’s sweet,” Ana smiled, holding a plate of baba ghanoush and pita chips.

“Ooh, thanks,” Morrison smiled, swiping up a generous smear and crunching away at his chip. Even that crunch couldn’t cover up the sound of a rumbling engine approaching, turning several heads in the room.

“Must be Reinhardt,” Reyes remarked, smirking. Everyone began to move toward the door, Jesse included, until Hanzo gripped his hand.

“Jesse. I need to talk to you,” he said, his tone oddly clipped and formal.

“Uh, sure darlin’, what is it?” Jesse asked, blinking. Hanzo tugged him back toward the kitchen with surprising strength and urgency.

“I can’t. I can’t do this. Not with my bosses,” Hanzo said.

“What? Hanzo, it’s fine,” Jesse said, rubbing the other man’s back gently, reassuringly.

“It’s inappropriate—they’re my bosses,” he repeated.

“Hanzo, I had supper with my professors an’ such all the time in college—not t’ mention Christmas parties at my bosses’ houses,” he added.

“Jesse,” Hanzo pleaded, his gaze falling and his hand rising to cover his face again. He could feel his blush creeping down his neck.

“...Do y’ wanna leave?”

“What?” Hanzo’s voice jumped in pitch, his gaze shooting up.

“We can go if yer uncomfortable,” Jesse said, a loud roar of cheer coming from the front of the house.

“No, no, this is your event,” Hanzo replied, “I wouldn’t make you leave your friends…”

“Well I wouldn’t make you stay,” he murmured, gently pulling Hanzo into his embrace. Hanzo leaned against him, but remained stiff, unsure. “C’mon, let’s get some fresh air,” Jesse said, carefully leading Hanzo to the front door.

“Jesse! It’s been ages!” Reinhardt’s voice boomed through the front room, making up for the fact that walking over would be a bit of a tight squeeze. “And who’s this? ...Hanzo?” he asked, his volume dropping considerably as he spied his co-worker.

“Evening, Mr. Wilhelm. Been in the kitchen all day, sir, jes’ gonna take a bit of a breather ‘fore we all sit down,” Jesse smiled, only slowing down slightly to greet the mountain of a man and doing his best to subtly screen Hanzo from view.

The evening air was warm and almost fuzzy, the relative quiet doing much more to calm Hanzo than any refreshing qualities the air might have had. He dropped heavily onto a picnic bench and took several deep breaths, only jostled slightly by Jesse’s weight joining him after a moment.

“You okay, honeybee?”

“...This is my fault,” Hanzo murmured, “I should have asked for the guest list.”

“Hey now,” Jesse said, rubbing Hanzo’s back, “It ain’t yer fault. I’m the idiot here. Didn’t think yer ‘Morrison & Reyes’ was _the_ Morrison an’ Reyes. Everybody ‘round here named Reyes makes a point of puttin’ their names on their businesses, since the Crisis ended…I bet Indiana has just about as many ‘Morrison’s’ corner stores an’ pharmacies, too...”

“...They’re both common names, I suppose,” Hanzo replied, crossing his ankles to keep himself from fidgeting too much. Too much nervous energy. Too much. “Especially for lawyers…”

“I’m sorry, baby. Didn’t realize I’d be puttin’ y’ on the spot quite this much. C’mere,” Jesse smiled, giving him another gentle hug. Hanzo quickly turned into the embrace, grateful to be able to hide his face in Jesse’s shoulder again. “...You wanna leave?”

Hanzo shook his head, holding onto Jesse tightly. He didn’t want to drive home like this--he didn’t want to be alone all evening, knowing that everyone would talk about him at dinner, then talk about him at the office and suddenly grow quiet when he entered the room, talk about him behind closed doors...just the thought made his stomach roll with surprising violence.

He couldn’t surrender. He took a deep breath, hoping to calm himself some more.

“Here, grabbed ya one,” Jesse said, nudging Hanzo’s arm with a barely cool bottle of water, the water on the outside more likely from the melted ice in the cooler than any condensation. Hanzo tore the lid from the bottle and drowned the twinge of nausea threatening to dig its vile little claws into his belly.

“Ssssh,” Jesse soothed, calmly rubbing Hanzo’s arm and smiling. “Jes’ take it easy, I’m right here. Ain’t about t’ abandon you or nothin’...” He bit the inside of his cheek, watching as Hanzo continued to force himself to breathe deeply, the anxiety almost contagious. “...You gonna be okay?”

He got his answer when Hanzo half climbed into his lap, holding himself close and pressing his face into the crook of Jesse’s neck, chasing that gentle comfort that he knew McCree’s arms held. Jesse squeezed him tight, smiling at the long sigh that left Hanzo at the warmth and pressure. A few long, soothing moments passed like that, the silence comforting and gentle.

“I love holdin’ you like this, honey,” Jesse whispered into his hair, kissing Hanzo’s temple.

“I love being held,” Hanzo admitted after a moment, shyly smiling into Jesse’s neck.

“It’s okay...it’s gonna be okay,” Jesse breathed, “I’m right here, I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I love ya, honeybee,” he murmured, his heart skipping a beat as he realized what he’d just said. Hanzo, too, seemed slightly surprised by the soft confession. He took a deep breath, and another...and another. Jesse hesitated as well, an apology on his lips, when--

“I love you, too,” Hanzo sighed, the tension melting from his frame as the words left him. The uncertainty he felt didn’t diminish, but it somehow seemed more...manageable? He wasn’t sure, but in the warmth of Jesse’s embrace, Hanzo at least felt accepted.

‘For once…’

‘Yeah…’

Another car pulled up, Torbjorn clambering out of the driver’s seat followed by his statuesque wife, her long blonde hair pulled back in a braided bun that probably looked much more carefully styled 12 hours before.

“Hello Mr. Lindholm, Mrs. Lindholm,” Jesse called, offering a slight wave.

“Good evening, Jesse,” she replied, her accent somewhere between Stockholm and London.

“We’ll be in in jes’ a minute,” he said, giving Hanzo a little squeeze as the door opened again, cheerful greetings floating out before the door swung shut. Hanzo’s grip began to loosen, and Jesse pulled back slightly, stroking the other man’s cheek. “You okay?”

“California law prohibits an employer from firing an employee on the basis of either sexual orientation or conduct outside of work hours,” Hanzo reasoned softly, “Not that I think Mr. Morrison or Mr. Reyes would do such a thing,” he added, forcing the remaining nervous twinge in his stomach to hold relatively still. “...But legally, I have full protection.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jesse said, rubbing Hanzo’s shoulder. “...Ready to go back inside?” he asked, brushing Hanzo’s bangs from his eyes.

“...Let’s go,” Hanzo replied, not committing to answer Jesse’s actual question either way.


	21. Chapter 21

Hanzo straightened his back as Jesse opened the front door again, entering total lawyer mode. A dinner party with his bosses and co-workers wasn’t so different from a trial, was it? They were basically opposing counsel, the others were the jury…yes. This could work…just present the best case possible.

‘A man who is his own lawyer has a fool for a client.’  
‘It’s not an actual case, just a more serious application of the dinner party rules Haha-ue force-fed us as kids.’  
‘And a lawyer who represents himself has the bigger fool.’  
‘This? This here? This is _exactly_ why I’m treating this like a case.’

“Now that we’re all here, shall we sit down?” Ana smiled, gesturing toward the dining room.

“Absolutely,” Torbjörn grinned, “Can’t wait for more of your cooking. No offense, dear,” he added, looking up at his wife with a nervous laugh.

“None taken,” she replied, a wry smile on her lips, “You know how nice it is to have someone else do the cooking for you.”

“Perhaps one of these days, I’ll help you out. Boil some water or…” he trailed off, happy to take his place at the end of the table and sliding the foot rest Ana had brought into place. The was only a little bit of residual chatter as seats were finally filled, Ana beaming from her place in the middle as Reinhardt squeezed into his place, as Jack and Gabriel subtly vied for the end seat, as Brigitte gabbed with Fareeha about the car she and Reinhardt had been building on the weekends at her garage as they happily plopped into seats next to each other—all facts Hanzo quietly filed away.

“Well, here we all are again for another year’s Eid feast. Jesse has prepared a _wonderful_ brisket for us, and it’s been tempting me all day,” Ana grinned. “Everyone please, help yourselves—I’m happy to carve more meat when you need it.”

“It all looks absolutely splendid, Ana, Jesse,” Reinhardt grinned, his plate already holding a surprising amount of food.

“Even better than lunchtime,” Fareeha agreed, scooping up some green beans.

“Don’t tell her I said it, but it looks better than Ma used to make,” Jack added.

“Had to swap out the classic bacon grease for duck fat, of course,” McCree grinned, “Gave me an excuse to use my liquid gold. Gonna have t’ render some more duck fat now, though…”

“Have you made any duck episodes yet, Jesse?” Ana asked, snagging a slice of brisket while Gabriel was distracted.

“Not yet—might jes’ have t’ do that here pretty soon,” he mused. “It’s a little outside my usual fare, but tasty nonetheless.”

“I might have to watch some of your videos,” Mrs. Lindholm mused, “Cooking the same dishes gets a little tiring after a while. I don’t know how restaurant chefs manage it.”

“Well, it don’t really feel like yer jes’ cookin’ the same things day in, day out,” McCree replied. “Timing, coordinating with yer team, it’s a marathon if’n I ever saw one. ‘Sides, if yer head chef’s got half an ounce of sense, you always got new specials t’ work on, keep things interestin’,” he added, smiling.

“Perhaps we could trade recipes,” Mrs. Lindholm offered, “My raggmunk recipe might interest you.”

“Always up fer more international dishes,” McCree smiled. A few moments of comfortable silence settled in as more dishes were sampled, the slices of brisket evaporating from the plate.

“Ana, darling, I do believe you have topped last year’s meal,” Reinhardt grinned, happily spooning both Egyptian and Southern beans onto his plate.

“Be careful with that much garlic,” Fareeha teased, “You’ll be driving off vampires for weeks.”

“Ha! Let them fear me!”

“I wouldn’t be too concerned about vampires,” Ana smirked, “Driving off the ladies, however…” Brigitte glanced up and down the table and suppressed a giggle. There were very few people at that table who had to worry about trying to attract women _…_

“So,” Gabriel began, planting his elbows on the table and smirking. “Hanzo, Jesse…Jesse and Hanzo…how, exactly, did the two of you meet?”

“I submitted an ingredient suggestion to Jesse’s YouTube channel,” Hanzo replied, his tone cool and strictly professional. “We began our correspondence at that point.”

Gabriel waited for Hanzo to continue, frowning slightly. “Well, that was a boring story. Jesse, why don’t you give it a shot?”

“Well, like Han said, he sent in a suggestion on one of the recipes I posted, but…well, he sent it from his work e-mail an’ gave me a mini heart attack,” Jesse smiled, reaching over and resting a hand on top of Hanzo’s. He faltered slightly at Hanzo’s lack of response, but there was no way to pass off the gesture as something accidental. Jesse shyly pulled his hand back and continued, smiling awkwardly. “Anyway, he scared the bejeezus outta me, so I e-mailed him back as professionally as I could. And…it turned out he was real clever and real handsome, and he liked cookin’.”

“Go on,” Gabriel grinned, his gaze occasionally flicking back to Hanzo, who was cutting his food into incredibly tiny pieces and eating in the most methodical way he’d ever seen in his life.

“Gabe, hon, don’t lean on the table like that, you’re blocking the fried green tomatoes,” Jack complained, trying to reach around Gabriel as best he could.

“Well, I wanted a reason to meet him in person, so I tried my darndest t’ get a copy of my cookbook in his hands,” Jesse laughed softly. “We e-mailed a bit more, an’ I think I finally wore him down—he agreed t’ have lunch with me. He was so sweet, I couldn’t wait t’ see him again… And from there, it’s history,” Jesse smiled, looking over at Hanzo and wilting slightly at his lack of input.

“How sweet,” Gabriel teased lightly. “How long has it been, Hanzo?”

“About two months,” Hanzo replied, wiping at the corner of his mouth primly.

“…And?” Gabriel prompted, his brows rising.

“…And that brings us to today,” Hanzo stated, turning to Gabriel and giving him the most professional look he could.

Gabriel blinked, slightly taken aback by Hanzo’s firm gaze. He’d seen him in court, of course, and was familiar with the stern, determined Hanzo who stepped into the courtroom and had confirmed to both himself and Jack that they had nabbed a star—he wasn’t, however, used to being on the receiving end of that cool stare.

“I think it’s sweet,” Ana said, unfazed by Hanzo’s expression, “Who would have thought that Jesse’s little videos would help him find a partner?”

“Well, it’s not exactly a small channel no more, Miss Ana,” McCree smiled, “I’ve got a couple hundred thousand loyal subscribers, got a decent Patreon runnin’, my cookbook campaign hit every stretch goal… It’s tough work, but Miss Hana says I’m takin’ to it like a duck to water, an’ I like it.”

“Maybe you should watch a few of them, Brigitte,” Mrs. Lindholm advised, “It can’t be healthy for you to eat out for lunch and dinner all the time.”

“Mom, c’mon, you know I take after dad,” she smiled.

“There’s no reason you can’t learn how to cook a few things, if you can learn how to build an engine from scratch.”

“Young people these days just don’t seem interested in cooking,” Ana sighed, “It’s all carry out and Starbucks.”

“We’re busy working,” Fareeha laughed, “You all didn’t cook when you were in the strike team, did you?”

“Of course not,” Jack chuckled. “Just MREs.”

“Chipotle is our daily rations,” Fareeha grinned. “Or whatever someone gets catered in—most of the delivery boys know to bring something for the security team by now.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m arranging the catering,” Jack chuckled.

“So, Reinhardt, your car sounds quite impressive,” Ana remarked, turning to the large man next to her. “Is this the one you’ve been working on?”

“Yes—though looking back, when you said I should try putting together kits, you probably meant something more like model airplanes,” Reinhardt laughed.

“Indeed.”

“Still! It’s been fun—Torbjörn and I enjoyed working on it, and Brigitte is just as skilled as her father,” Reinhardt grinned.

“Aww, thanks Uncle Reinhardt,” Brigitte smiled. “It sure turns a lot of heads when you bring it to the garage to work on it.”

Hanzo let out the longest, slowest, quietest breath he possibly could, not wanting to draw Mr. Reyes’s attention once again. As long as the others could keep the conversation running, hopefully he would just be able to finish this nightmare in relative peace. He could go home, have a _deep_ drink of shochu or three—

‘You work tomorrow.’

Shit, that’s right…

“Alright, before things get too dull, everyone _carefully_ check under your plates,” Ana grinned. “You should find a card with a question on it. Take a moment to read it and think of your answer, then get ready to share. Gabriel, I believe as the ranking officer at the table, you should begin,” she chuckled along with the others at the table, everyone sliding their cards out from under their plate.

‘Oh no…oh no, _party games_ …’

Hanzo looked down at his card, sighing in relief at the question he had: ‘What is your favorite book character’. He couldn’t have asked for more of a softball question. What would be a good answer, though? He had a few options, after all—English books, or Japanese books?

“Aw, c’mon, Ana…‘What was your most embarrassing moment?’” Gabe asked, turning in his chair and huffing.

“I placed the cards randomly,” she grinned, a mischievous gleam in her remaining eye.

“Uh huh. I suppose it would probably be that year when you threw that “costume party”—the one where I was the only one in costume?” Gabe replied, turning his glare to Jack, who was hiding his laughter behind his hand. “I still hate you for that, Jackie.”

“You didn’t get suspicious when I _didn’t_ leave the house in a costume with you?” Jack cackled.

“ _You_ wore a suit and said you were going as James Bond!” Gabe accused, Reinhardt roaring with laughter as well.

“Alright, moving on,” Ana chuckled, “‘Describe your dream house?’ Why, I’m in it right now, as long as you are all here,” she smiled.

“Aww, go on, butter me up a little more,” McCree grinned.

“Although! I could stand to have a larger kitchen,” she laughed. “Alright, let’s keep it moving. Reinhardt?”

“Mine is ‘When and where were you happiest in your life’, aah, any time I am with my dear friends,” he grinned.

“You just stole Mom’s answer,” Fareeha chuckled.

“But it’s true!”

“Alright… ‘What has been your favorite family vacation’,” Torbjörn mused. Hanzo was barely listening—the conversation was moving _shockingly_ fast…they were already on his side of the table—think think _think—!_

“‘If you could talk to anyone from the past, living or dead, who would it be?’” Fareeha mused. “Hmm…probably Dad,” she said, her tone quieting slightly. “It’s hard not to miss him, even after all this time.”

“I’m sure he would be very proud of all you’ve done,” Ana smiled. “Jesse?”

“Aww, shucks, ‘What do you love most about the person to yer right’,” McCree smiled, looking over at Hanzo. “I think…what I love most is his sense of humor,” he said, gently nudging him with his knee.

“R-really?” Hanzo sputtered, his ears burning at Jesse’s statement.

“It’s pretty dry, but dang if you can’t crack a silly joke or two. Yer texts kill me, darlin’,” McCree grinned. Hanzo blinked a few times, regaining his composure.

“I’ve heard that humor is one of the most difficult things for second language learners to master—I’ll accept the compliment,” Hanzo replied, offering a polite smile before looking down at his card and taking a breath. “My question is ‘What is your favorite book character’, and I feel I would betray my entire profession if I did not say Atticus Finch.”

“So what if you weren’t a lawyer? Then who would it be?” Gabriel asked, smirking. Leave it to Hanzo…

“Probably Detective Conan,” Hanzo replied, allowing himself a more honest smile. “I wouldn’t have started reading so many mystery novels if not for him. Conan lead to Holmes, Poirot, Dupin…”

“You mean you don’t read legal thrillers?” Fareeha asked, smiling.

“After working with the law all day, I like to think about something else in my free time—such as cooking,” he said, gesturing to Jesse. “Though detective novels eventually lead me to Perry Mason—my third favorite book character,” he added with a smirk.

“So it’s safe to say, if not a lawyer, our Hanzo would have become a detective?” Ana asked.

“Perhaps,” Hanzo mused, “But I wanted nothing more than to be a lawyer,” he said, setting his card aside and folding his hands, as if he had just laid his case before the court.

“Alright Jack, your turn,” Ana smiled. “Jesse, would you like to get dessert prepared?”

“Yes, ma’am,” McCree smiled, wiping his mouth and standing. “…Hanzo, could you help me in the kitchen?”

“Ah, yes,” Hanzo replied, laying his napkin next to his plate and following, every motion precise and controlled—he was still under observation, after all.

The kitchen was just as much of a mess as before, one which Jesse halfheartedly tended to as he warmed up the oven. “How you feelin’, honey?” he asked, filling a few pots and pans to soak before getting a good scrub later.

“The food was excellent and Mrs. Amari is a wonderful host, but I…would very much like for the night to be over,” Hanzo murmured, his gaze falling.

“Aww, honey, c’mere,” McCree murmured, giving Hanzo a gentle squeeze. He could feel Hanzo relax slightly in his arms, leaning into him with a quiet sigh. “…You wanna leave?”

Hanzo pressed his face into Jesse’s shoulder, trying to draw strength from the soft cotton and the warm muscle beneath. He drew a deep, almost meditative breath as he attempted to center himself, his head slowly tipping back as he aligned his spine. He couldn’t leave yet; dessert hadn’t been served, and he certainly wasn’t leaving his CorningWare baking dish here. Not only that, but leaving without his partner? How uncouth.

“The dishes haven’t even been cleared yet,” Hanzo replied, looking up at Jesse for a moment. “…Perhaps I can help clean—take a break from the party.”

“That should be fine,” McCree smiled. “You gonna be okay to go back an’ have dessert?”

“…I think so,” Hanzo said, “I just need a few minutes to recharge.”

“I hear ya—you wanna stay here while I get everything goin’? Or d’you wanna go outside an’ get some fresh air?” McCree asked, pulling a carton of vanilla bean ice cream from the freezer.

“Would you mind terribly if I just…sat and watched?” Hanzo asked, brushing at his bangs.

“Naw, that’s fine, honeybee,” McCree smiled, gesturing toward a stool against the opposite wall with a decorative flowerpot on top. “Jes’ move that fake plant an’ have a seat. You want it quiet?”

“Yes, please,” Hanzo sighed, sitting on the stool and leaning against the wall for a moment, his hands slowly relaxing in his lap. Despite the heat outside and from the kitchen, the wall was pleasantly cool against his back. Once he had leeched all the relief he could from the wall, however, he straightened his back carefully, arranging his hands and slowly beginning to breathe. Let it wash away, let it pass—it was time to listen without preparing anything, to clearly hear the rising and falling.

For several moments, he simply listened to the sound of Jesse working. The oven door opening, something sliding in, the door shutting. The water running, vigorous scrubbing, the clink and clatter of pots and pans. Another door—dishwasher? Probably… Hanzo’s eyes flicked up to confirm his suspicion, watching Jesse work. His sleeves were rolled up, tending to a small pan on the stove, stirring it and casually placing one pan at a time in the dishwasher.

“…What are you making?” Hanzo asked, slightly surprised by how exhausted he sounded.

“Tarte Tatin,” McCree replied, smiling over at him. “Gotta make some fresh caramel t’ go over it, since I had to cook the tart ahead o’ time.”

“Ah,” he breathed. Hanzo had never heard of it; perhaps it was for a future episode. Or perhaps it was a secret family recipe, not to be shared with the masses… McCree carefully turned his tart over and inhaled the scent of caramelized apple, nodding in satisfaction at his creation. The fresh caramel was poured over it, the spice of cinnamon and nutmeg and cardamom diffusing through the kitchen.

“Are you gonna be okay t’ help me bring stuff out?” McCree asked, keeping quiet as he pulled Hanzo’s warm double ka meetha from the oven. Hanzo took a deep breath, his eyes rising again.

“Yes.”

“Alright, oven mitts are right here,” Jesse smiled, laying two mitts with embroidered roosters on the kitchen island. Something about them positively screamed ‘McCree’, and brought a tiny smile to Hanzo’s lips as he pulled them on.

“And don’t worry,” Jesse added, resting a hand on Hanzo’s waist and kissing his cheek. “You can come back over t’ my place an’ have a drink when we leave—Lord knows I’m gonna need one after workin’ in this kitchen all day.”

“That sounds _wonderful_ ,” Hanzo said with a sigh of relief. There was a light at the end of the tunnel…

‘You shouldn’t drink and drive.’  
‘Perhaps you’ll just have to spend the night—’  
‘Spend the night with Jesse?’  
‘Ugh, I don’t even want to think about that right now, nice try…’  
‘Yeah, my bosses are in the next room, better keep my thoughts pure in case Jack can read minds.’  
‘Ohmygod—can he do that?’

“Alright, y’all, we’ve got two dessert options tonight,” McCree called, carrying his tarte Tatin carefully as he lead Hanzo back into the dining room. “Got my Tarte Tatin à la Mode, an apple tart topped with vanilla bean ice cream, an’ Hanzo brought a traditional Double ka Meetha, an Indian bread pudding topped with fruits, nuts, and fine spices.”

“Mmm, is that the stuff you brought to the potluck last time, Hanzo?” Gabriel asked, smirking and glancing over at Jack.

“Yes, sir,” Hanzo said, carefully placing his pan in the middle of the table.

“Ooh, the gold is a nice touch,” Brigitte smiled.

“It’s delicious,” Torbjörn testified, his eyes lighting up. “Darling, you have to try some—Hanzo makes an _excellent_ bread pudding.”

“I’ll take some, for sure. Jackie?” Gabriel grinned, turning back to Jack, who huffed softly.

“I’ll have the ice cream.”

* * *

“Hoo boy, it’s always a rough day of cookin’,” McCree sighed, pushing the door open and strolling into the house. After a few moments, he noticed that Hanzo wasn’t following him. “…Han?”

“I’m about to step into the set of The Cooking Cowboy,” Hanzo murmured reverently, taking a deep breath before he stepped across the threshold.

“…How’s it feel?” McCree asked, leaning against the foyer entryway.

“It’s…a little exciting,” Hanzo chuckled.

“Why don’t we get that bakin’ dish in the dishwasher, an’ grab a beer or two? We can sit out on the porch an’ unwind a bit,” McCree offered.

“I…M-may I see your kitchen?” Hanzo asked, a smile slowly growing on his face.

“Of course, c’mon in babe,” McCree smiled, leading him inside.

The décor of the house was somewhat surprising—Hanzo wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but the cool, airy interior and comfortable furniture wasn’t exactly it. Still, it looked like a space that McCree could be proud of; clean and attractive and very photogenic. It would be a great space to throw a house party, or to film various segments in.

“Sorry ‘bout the mess,” he said, walking into the dining room. It had been designed to accommodate filming and some basic editing, with light stands and tripods and a workstation set up on the dining room table, along with several cookbooks and a few printed pages. “Alright, y’ ready?” McCree grinned.

“Yes,” Hanzo grinned, feeling positively giddy. McCree reached out and flipped on the lights with a flourish, grinning as well.

The kitchen was immaculate. The stove was spotless, the stacked ovens gleaming, the fridge looked as if it had never even met a decorative magnet. Hanzo’s eyes darted left and right, searching out familiar landmarks. The knife block, the cookie jar, the flour and sugar canisters, Jesse’s French press, his _countertops_ , that _backsplash—!_

“Oh…o-oh my,” Hanzo murmured, taking a tentative step forward. “May I?”

“Please,” McCree smiled, gesturing him onward and beaming like a proud father. Hanzo carefully explored the space for a moment before slowly reaching out to touch Jesse’s gas range. He’d watched countless dishes being cooked here, watched Jesse’s big, rough hands delicately chop and dice and mince, seen cooking miracles worked in this kitchen… His life had been changed in this kitchen, and he hadn’t even been inside it until now.

“It’s even more beautiful in person, Jesse,” Hanzo whispered, speaking directly at the stove. Looking up at the man it belonged to was almost too much for him in that moment.

“Thank y’ kindly,” McCree said, opening the fridge and pulling out two beers. “You can go ahead and jes’ leave the dish on the counter, I’ll get to it in time. C’mon, let’s unwind a bit,” he said, gesturing to the dining room again. “Got a nice swing,” he added, winking.

“Thank you,” Hanzo said, setting his dish beside the sink and hurrying after Jesse, almost afraid to be left in such an important place by himself.

“I’d say you definitely earned this here drink,” McCree chuckled, nudging the door open with his hip and sinking down into the wooden porch swing. It had a distinctly handmade look to it, and McCree looked completely in his natural habitat sitting in it. “C’mere, honeybee,” he smiled, patting the cushion next to him and holding out a bottle. “Cheers.”

“Kampai,” Hanzo smiled, clinking his bottle against Jesse’s and curling up at Jesse’s side. A few long, warm moments passed, the swing rocking with the motion of McCree’s strong legs. The heat of the evening blended into the warmth of the man next to him, along with the warmth the beer left on his tongue with each tip of the bottle.

“I’m sorry you had a rough night,” McCree said, giving him a little squeeze.

“I’ll manage,” Hanzo sighed, relaxing into McCree’s embrace.

“No, that was my mistake—ain’t nothin’ to manage,” McCree said. “I put you in an awkward position with yer bosses, an’ it’s my fault. Next time, we’ll stay in, promise.”

“Jesse, I’ve been in awkward positions in front of my bosses before. I’ve lost cases with Mr. Morrison and Mr. Reyes watching me in the courtroom. It was an unpleasant surprise to find them here, but nothing I am unequipped to handle,” Hanzo said, taking another sip from his beer. “I appreciate the apology, but I assure you, you do not need to try to protect me.”

“I just wanna help,” Jesse murmured, his gaze falling.

“I know—and you did help,” Hanzo smiled, though he was clearly tired, “You are very supportive, and I know you had no ill intention in inviting me to a dinner with my bosses. For now, I’m just glad it’s over and I want to relax as much as I can.”

“If you say so,” Jesse said, giving Hanzo a little squeeze.

“…But in the future,” Hanzo said, drawing a breath, “Could you please… _please_ , think for a few moments before you do things? Before posting videos, or inviting me places, or arranging dates, just…be mindful.”

“Of course,” Jesse blurted, his cheeks warming slightly. He knew when he was being chastised, after all, even if Hanzo wasn’t using his ‘lawyer voice’.

“I don’t need coddling, just consideration. Thank you,” Hanzo sighed, staring down into his beer.

“Yes honey,” Jesse smiled, stroking Hanzo’s hair. “…Is there anything else ya need?”

“Hmm…more moments like this,” Hanzo smiled in return, leaning up to nuzzle Jesse’s scruffy jaw for a moment. “It’s nice to have someone to hold me…”

“Happy t’ be of service,” Jesse chuckled, leaning down and kissing Hanzo softly, the taste of beer and caramel on his lips. Hanzo carefully twisted and turned into the kiss, sliding closer and settling against McCree’s warm bulk.

“You don’t mind if I stay a while, do you?” he asked softly, “I don’t intend on having only one beer, after all.”

“Naw, stay as long as you like, baby,” McCree purred.

“…All night?” Hanzo ventured.

“Don’t bother me none,” McCree whispered, “You got work in the mornin’, though, don’t ya? What’re you gonna wear?”

“I have a change of clothes at the office. Sometimes you have to work late, so you sleep at the office…and sometimes you have appointments the next day and you can’t show up in yesterday’s suit,” Hanzo explained. “I have a toothbrush there, too.”

“Clever,” McCree grinned. “I can get a guest room freshened up for ya, unless y’ wanna share.”

“Sharing sounds delightful,” Hanzo sighed, resting his cheek against McCree’s shoulder. “…As does an early bedtime, if you don’t mind.”

“I can manage that, sweetpea,” Jesse murmured, bathing in the warmth and weight of the handsome man in his lap.


	22. Chapter 22

Hanzo groaned softly as he felt the bed shift, reaching for the warmth leaving his side. 

“Mnhh, what time is it?” he asked, pushing himself up and fumbling for his phone. Was it really 6:30?

“Don’t want ya t’ be late fer work,” Jesse said, sounding just as tired. “I’ll fix ya s’me breakfast. Gon’ hop in th’ shower first,” he mumbled, yawning and stretching. Hanzo could barely understand him between his own fatigue and Jesse’s slurred accent. Regardless, he dragged himself out of bed and stretched toward the ceiling before reaching down and touching his toes in a fluid motion.

“Mmm, ain’t that a sight.” 

“ _Chikan_ ,” Hanzo smirked, continuing his abridged morning routine. He’d have to skip his morning run, it seemed—he didn’t know what the traffic would be like on the way to the office from this part of the city, after all.

 And besides, he was going to have breakfast with Jesse…!

The shower only seemed to run for about 2 minutes before Jesse was shuffling back out in a pair of well-loved flannel pajama pants and a tank top. “Any special requests, darlin’?”

“Whatever you think is best,” Hanzo replied, pausing as he moved into a different yoga position. “Ah, m-may I use your shower?”

“Sure thing, honeybee,” McCree smiled, pecking his cheek before heading downstairs.

 Jesse’s bathroom was much more conservative than the ground floor bathroom, with a fake plant on the high windowsill and a few half-full bottles of shampoo and conditioner. There was a considerable percentage of his counter space taken up with beard care supplies—no wonder it was so soft and luxurious!—and a few jars of face cream, foundation and powder; just enough makeup to look like he was wearing none at all on camera. His videos were in HD, after all…

One benefit to Jesse’s lightning quick shower was there was still plenty of hot water. The heat was a blessing, soothing a bit of the lingering tension from the night before, the steam kissing his face delightfully. Though he felt a little strange using Jesse’s shampoo and conditioner and it didn’t exactly match his hair type, he could see no other alternative.

The smell wafting up from the kitchen was incredible, and Hanzo could hardly wait to get downstairs and see what his cowboy was preparing.

The table in the breakfast nook was loaded with dishes featuring all the colors of the rainbow, it seemed. A vibrant bowl of huevos rancheros sat in the middle, the bright red cherry tomatoes and wafer-thin slices of avocado vibrant among the other neatly separated ingredients. Next to that sat a stack of miniature blueberry-pecan waffles, sweet and buttery and delightfully brown, only made moreso by syrup. Another small bowl sat nearby, piled high with sweet potato chorizo hash—how long had he been in the shower?

“There ya are,” Jesse called, grinning. “Orange juice or coffee?”

“Ah…orange juice, please,” Hanzo said, suddenly feeling oddly self-conscious.

“Good choice—fresh squeezed,” Jesse winked. “Sit down, fix yerself a plate—I’ll be right out.”

Hanzo almost didn’t want to disturb such a pretty table, and even removing a banana from the fruit bowl seemed like a sin. True to his promise, however, McCree re-emerged after a few moments, a tall glass of orange juice and a plate full of little muffins in hand.

“You alright?” he asked, his gaze flicking up from Hanzo’s empty plate.

“Fine, fine, just waiting for you,” Hanzo replied quickly, his cheeks warming slightly. “I would hardly know where to start with all this—how did you prepare it all so quickly?”

“Heh, the key is that I got a big stove,” he smiled. “Plus I skipped the egg in the hash t’ speed things up a bit, since we got egg right here.” Jesse pointed at the huevos rancheros to emphasize his point. “Zucchini muffin? Fresh outta the oven.”

“Thank you,” Hanzo murmured, plucking a delightfully warm muffin off of the plate. “…Now I feel a bit bad—I hardly put any effort into the breakfast I made for you,” he said, sheepish.

“Aww, honeybee, don’t worry ‘bout that,” Jesse smiled, a pecan waffle and a spoonful of hash making a home on his plate. “Think of it as my way of sayin’ sorry ‘bout yesterday. And my way of makin’ up fer last night being…well…vanilla. I was plum wore out, honey, we didn’t even hardly get t’ second base.”

“You didn’t even try,” Hanzo smirked, working up the bravery to prepare a plate. “But it’s fine—I was looking for a restful night, and you delivered.”

“Happy t’ be of service,” McCree smiled. “Though I’m gonna want you back here sometime fer a more…adventurous slumber party.”

Hanzo chuckled, his cheeks warming. The thought was _very_ tempting…

“Are you going to cook for me again?” he asked, taking a bite of the hash.

“Of course,” Jesse laughed, “Wanna try an’ make that ramen recipe you gave me.”

“Such a charmer,” Hanzo smiled, carefully eating and checking the time. He’d been intending to leave a bit earlier, but this was such a calm start to the morning, and he was sure he could watch Jesse cook all day—he’d much rather do that than face his coworkers. The food disappeared much faster than he would have liked, but it was too good to excuse himself from, delightfully spicy and rich; just as efficient as waking him up as his usual morning tea.

“Oh! And ‘fore you run off, I made you a lunch t’ take with you,” Jesse said, rising from the table “Got everything all sectioned off, so you can put all the toppings on when it’s time t’ eat.”

“What is it?” Hanzo asked, wiping at his mouth and rising.

“Made ya some fry bread,” Jesse smiled, strolling back into the kitchen and coming out with a well-stuffed brown paper bag. “There’s plenty o’ stuff in there to put on top, make yerself a Navajo taco.”

“A what?”

“A Navajo taco,” Jesse repeated. “It’s one of my favorite fair foods. There’s a couple restaurants ‘round here where you can get ‘em, but it’s jes’ as easy t’ make ‘em myself.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Hanzo mused, “Hopefully I can successfully assemble it.”

“Yer a quick study,” Jesse smiled, pecking Hanzo’s cheek and holding the bag out. “I got faith in you.”

“Thank you, Jesse,” Hanzo smiled in return, rising up on tip-toe to kiss Jesse’s cheek in return. “I’ll text you when I have a free moment.” The exchange felt so natural, so right…it made his heart skip a beat, and for once, the flush in his cheeks was pleased rather than embarrassed.

“Have a good day, honeybee,” Jesse said, kissing Hanzo a little more properly before he began tending to the clean-up of the kitchen.

* * *

 

Hanzo had been halfway to the office when he realized, with a groan, his briefcase was back at his house, filled with highlighted notes and paperwork for the day ahead. While he could probably slip out of traffic and double back, it would only make him twice as late to the office—which was worse?

‘You can’t miss your morning teleconference—your clients are staying up late to talk with you.’

‘What use is it without your notes?’

‘We don’t go before the arbitrator for, what another month? It should be okay.’

‘What if they want to go over something?’

‘Bullshit it the way American clients do when I want to go over something, I guess. I can skate by on my credentials once in my life, can’t I?’

‘…well, probably just once…’

‘And hey, I can always wake Genji up and make him go pick up my briefcase, right? It’s not like he’s got anything going on…’

‘Right, right…good idea.’

The little panicky voice in the back of his head just murmured ‘call him call him call him’ the rest of the way to the office—it was almost soothing, compared to the chaos that he knew he could generate in moments of panic.

“Good morning, Mr. Shimada,” Fareeha called as Hanzo entered the building, smirking slightly as she looked over yesterday’s rumpled clothes.

“Good morning, Miss Amari,” Hanzo replied, glancing between her smirk and her half-eaten donut, piled high with chocolate frosting and sprinkles.

“Guess we both had a good weekend, hm?” she winked. Hanzo chuckled and rolled his eyes, staring up at the floor indicator. The ride was as uneventful as usual, though as he reached the third floor, he grew a bit self-conscious. He couldn’t sneak past Winston like this—he’d already have seen him on the cameras anyway…how many people would have to see him on his walk of shame?

“Uh, good morning Mr. Shimada,” Winston said, taking in Hanzo's casual clothing and the brown sack lunch in his hand.

“Winston, could you call my brother? I need him to go to my house and pick up my briefcase,” Hanzo said, doing his best to still look professional and put-together. “I would have picked it up myself and come in late, but I have an early meeting.”

“Um, actually, you have about 8 missed calls from him,” Winston said, adjusting his glasses. “I tried to call you, but your phone must be dead…”

“Yes, my apologies. I’ll go get cleaned up, and I’ll call him myself, I suppose,” Hanzo sighed. He was barely away from the front desk before the phone rang again.

“Morrison and Reyes, LLP, this is Winston speaking—uh, yes, he’s just arrived…” Winston glanced over at Hanzo, his smooth brows rising.

“I’ll take the call in my office,” Hanzo sighed, shaking his head slightly.

“Very well, Mr. Shimada, I’ll transfer you to Mr. Shimada’s office, hold please,” Winston said in his most pleasant voice, turning the page on a textbook under the desk with his toes.

He didn’t intend to make Genji wait, but there was some satisfaction to be had in carefully adjusting his tie rather than answering the desperately flashing line on his phone.

“Moshi moshi, Hanzo Shimada speaking,” he grinned, dropping down in his chair. A rush of panicked Japanese assaulted his ear.

“ _Hanzo, you’ve gotta help me oh my god it burned down—”_

“Wait, what? Slow down, Genji, what burned down?”

“The restaurant! Angela’s favorite place!” Genji wailed. “I had reservations and I’d bought a ring and-and—”

“You bought a _what_?” Hanzo wasn’t quite sure what he could have mistaken Genji for saying.

“A ring! Remember, I was gonna do something special for her birthday—”

“So you were going to _propose_ as a birthday present?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Hanzo sighed, rubbing his eyes lightly. “The family’s not going to be happy about that…” he muttered.

“They’re never happy with what I do, so who gives a damn?”

“Genji…” Hanzo sighed again, glancing over at his computer and pulling up the news. Sure enough, ‘Popular Ventura Restaurant Burns Down in Early Morning Blaze’ topped the local pages. “What do you need?”

“Well…what do I do? I mean, I dropped a lot of money on that ring…”

“Did you get an insurance policy on it?”

“I don’t know. I signed a lot of stuff when I bought it…”

“Well, call the jeweler and ask if you got jewelry insurance when you bought the ring.”

“Alright…and if I didn’t?”

“Then you’re screwed.”

“Hanzoooo, don’t tell me that!” Genji whined.

“I can’t make an insurance company reimburse you for something you don’t have insurance on!” Hanzo sighed, exasperated. “You’d better pray to whatever it is you Shambali pray to that you got that policy.”

“Okay,” Genji whimpered. “Um…what do I do for now?”

“Well, when is her birthday?”

“…If I tell you it’s today, you’ll hit me, won’t you?”

“Genji, we’re not kids anymore, I won’t hit you. Besides, this isn’t your fault. This is the definition of ‘things your big brother will pardon you for’,” Hanzo said, his tone softening slightly.

“But I don’t know what to do to fix this!” Genji wailed, “You’re smart and everything, I need your help!”

“…Tell you what,” Hanzo began, “Go by my house and get my briefcase and bring it to the office. Consider that initial payment for my services,” he added, chuckling softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zucchini Bread/Muffins  
> (family recipe from theartisticfox)
> 
> INGREDIENTS  
>  
> 
>   * 2 c peeled and grated zucchini
>   * 1 c vegetable oil
>   * 3 eggs, beaten
>   * 2 c of sugar
>   * 2 tsp vanilla
>   * 3 c flour
>   * 1 tsp baking soda
>   * 1/4 tsp baking powder
>   * 3 tsp cinnamon
>   * 1 tsp salt
> 

> 
> DIRECTIONS  
>  
> 
>   1. Preheat the oven to 350
>   2. Combine sugar, eggs, and vanilla, then stir in the zucchini and oil.
>   3. Combine dry ingredients (flour, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt) and add to the wet mixture, being careful not to overmix.
>   4. Grease your loaf pans and/or muffin pans. Evenly distribute the batter between the muffin cups and/or the loaf pans. (Yields 2 loaves/24 muffins)
>   5. If making loaves: Bake for 55 mins - 1 hr, or until a tester comes out clean. Cool in pan on a wire rack for 20 minutes, then remove from loaf pan and completely cool.
>   6. If making muffins: Bake for 20 - 25 mins, or until a tester comes out clean. Let cool on a wire rack for 5-10 minutes, then remove from muffin pan and cool completely.
> 

> 
> NOTE: All quickbread recipes (zucchini bread, banana bread, corn bread, etc.) can easily be converted to muffins, and most muffin recipes can be easily converted to bread recipes; 1 loaf = 12 muffins, and muffins bake for half the time as a loaf of bread at 350.


	23. Chapter 23

“Are you planning to just hang out in my office all day?” Hanzo asked, sending off scans of Genji’s paperwork and appraisal information to his insurance company. A lawyer obviously wasn’t necessary to file a simple insurance claim, but hopefully the firm’s e-mail address would spur them into action.

And with the stress on Genji’s shoulders, the least he could do was help him handle this crisis. After all, Genji had been supportive last time he’d had a moment of panic.

“I might leave for some food, but…I don’t know what else to do or where to go,” he whimpered. “Is it a problem?”

“I suppose not,” Hanzo replied, shrugging. “You can be my paralegal for today.”

“Aww, you’re gonna put me to work?”

“It’s either that or I charge you my hourly rate for my company.” Hanzo blinked as his phone dinged on his desk, pulling it close only to find a message from Jesse. His gaze flicked up to Genji for a moment before he opened the message, his lips quirking upward.

‘have lunch w/ me?’

The message was accompanied by a photograph of what Jesse had packed for his lunch—a variety of toppings and several golden pieces of frybread. Hanzo was quick to text back.

‘Gladly (:’

“Alright, here’s your first job,” Hanzo said, pulling out his large brown paper lunch bag. “Go warm up the ground beef in here for me.”

“Yes boss,” Genji smiled, taking the bag and pausing. “…Where’s the kitchen?”

“Go back to the front room, turn right and go to the end of the hall,” Hanzo explained, gesturing vaguely in the air. It was a little early for lunch based on his usual schedule, but perhaps it was the only time convenient for Jesse.

He almost had a whole email drafted before Genji returned, the scent of spiced meat filling the room.

“Damn, your microwave _sucks_ , man.”

“It’s not mine, thankfully,” Hanzo chuckled.

“Whatever this is, can I have some?”

“Well…” Hanzo took the bag and peeked inside, withdrawing a tinfoil packet and spying three pieces of frybread inside. “…Sure, I can share,” he smirked. He quickly and efficiently cleared space on the coffee table in front of the futon, arranging the containers of toppings so methodically, it was as if he was getting judged on his table setting skill. Genji was about to make a remark, but when Hanzo snapped a photo, it all made sense.

“So what is this, exactly?” Genji asked instead.

“Jesse called it ‘Navajo tacos’,” Hanzo said, sending the photo to Jesse.

“Jesse? Ooooh, your boyfriend packed you a lunch?” Genji grinned.

“Yes he did,” Hanzo replied, huffing slightly. “Now do you want to eat it or not?”

“No, I do! I do!” Genji replied, quickly making himself contrite.

Another message pinged on Hanzo’s phone—another photo of Jesse’s completed Navajo taco. The toppings were piled high, and Jesse sat behind it beaming proudly. The photo filter and the angle suggested that Hana had taken the picture for him.

'bon apetit, honeybee ;)'

“This is what it’s supposed to look like, but…with less pink hearts and flower crowns,” Hanzo explained.

“Looks good. The food, I mean.”

“I figured,” Hanzo smirked, beginning to spoon the seasoned beef onto a piece of frybread. “Alright, this means we have to take a picture and send it back, so don’t eat it right away.”

“Want me to throw some filters on it?” Genji grinned as he began composing his creation.

“Sure, why not,” Hanzo chuckled. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“It’s fun,” he grinned, taking Hanzo’s phone and holding it up for a selfie with their lunches. “I always put silly stuff when I send pictures to Angela.” Hanzo hesitated to eat until Genji returned his phone, the image covered with bubbles, with a border of tiny kittens eating fish. Whatever makes him happy…

“So,” Hanzo said, delicately cutting his frybread with a knife and fork in his office, “What are you going to do about your koseki?”

Genji paused, his frybread folded in half around his toppings like a literal taco. “I…hadn’t thought about it until you mentioned it,” he replied, “Why bring it up?”

“Your marriage isn’t legal in Japan unless you record it in the koseki,” Hanzo explained, “It could cause problems if you ever go back home…or if you and Angela start a family.”

“What do I have to do with it?”

“Well, you have a few options,” Hanzo said, settling back in his office chair, “The first is just submit paperwork to me, and I can have either the embassy or my Tokyo office shuttle it to Hanamura City Hall and have it entered…but foreigners can’t be entered properly. She’ll just be a footnote in dad’s register.

“Option number two is what I did when I left home. I withdrew my name from Dad’s family register and established my own koseki in Tokyo the day I turned 20.”

“Oh yeah, Dad was pissed.”

“I know. But like you said, everyone will be pissed about this already. I’m frankly surprised you’re still on Dad’s register…you’re a grown man.”

“I don’t know about all this stuff,” Genji shrugged.

“You went to law school too, you know,” Hanzo frowned.

“Yeah, but this is family law stuff! I just paid some nerd to do my work for that class and skipped every week.”

“I’m so proud,” Hanzo muttered. “Well anyway, even if you withdraw from Dad’s koseki, Dad can still look it up, since his name is on it as your father. There’s no privacy or anything with withdrawing, it’s just a legal roadblock against certain actions.

“The third,” he continued, leaning against his desk, “Is the nuclear option. You naturalize as a citizen here and have your koseki permanently withdrawn. Which would mean you’d reject Japanese citizenship and cut all legal ties with the clan.”

“Whoa...that’s kind of extreme, isn’t it?”

“Well, Japan doesn’t like to allow dual citizenship,” Hanzo shrugged.

“...What did you do?” Genji asked between bites.

“I’m still a citizen...it makes things easier with my Tokyo office, I don’t have to re-take the bar as a foreigner, getting through immigration is easier when I go back for conferences or to collaborate on big cases…”

“Wait, would they really make you re-take the bar?”

“Probably,” Hanzo scoffed, “I wouldn’t be a Japanese citizen anymore, so everything has to be 10 times harder. I wouldn’t even be able to get a cell phone back home.”

“What a pain.”

“Yeah. Still, I’ve thought about it. The clan is just a dark cloud following me everywhere I go,” he sighed. “I always get the fun series of questions in a windowless room when I come back from abroad.”

“Hah! Sucks to be you.”

“They’d do worse to you,” Hanzo smirked. “I’m a respectable lawyer. Roots in the community. Work for international heroes and all. You're just some guy.”

“That’s harsh, Hanzo,” Genji pouted, taking a big bite of his taco.

“Either way, think about it. But do try to think quickly, Japan is 16 hours ahead of us and my colleagues will want to take care of this first thing in the morning.”

* * *

 

Angela smiled at the enormous pile of toppings on her cup of froyo, the stack only matched by Genji’s.

“They ran out of the strawberry juice poppers,” Genji said, though both of their cups seemed to have a healthy population of tiny pink orbs.

“Now when you say ‘ran out’,” she began, giggling softly.

“I gave most of them to you,” he grinned.

“I’ll consider it my birthday present, then,” Angela smiled, scooping up more toppings than yogurt. She tried not to let her disappointment show too much; Genji had been dropping hints about a fancy dinner for her birthday for a few weeks, making sure that his one nice suit had been dry cleaned and everything, but when patients started coming into the ER with news that Zeffirelli’s had burned down that morning, she had a sinking feeling that she would be spending her birthday dinner somewhere like this.

‘It’s not his fault,’ she reminded herself, watching as he picked at his yogurt in a noncommittal way. ‘He’s probably thinking the same things right now…’

Genji took a breath and looked as if he were perched on the verge of speaking, but quickly backed down, his gaze falling to an unfortunate-looking green gummi bear drizzled with strawberry sauce, sliding upside-down along the side of his yogurt.

‘Boy, if that’s not how I feel right about now…’

“Genji?”

“Hm?” he replied a little too quickly, his eyes wide.

“I know you’d been planning something, and…well, I know it must have fallen through,” she began, carving out a bit of yogurt and chocolate chips with her spoon. “But really, this is a nice evening,” she smiled. “I don’t need Zeffirelli’s to enjoy a birthday meal with you.”

“Ah, a-about that…” Genji laughed nervously, terror in his eyes. “I-I really did have a reservation and—”

“I know you did,” she smiled. “And it’s the thought that counts.” She ate an overly large scoop of yogurt to emphasize her point, and did her best not to let her brainfreeze show.

Genji nervously glanced toward the door, chewing on his lip more than his dessert, though he did manage for force a few more mouthfuls of sugar down. ‘Would I have been this nervous at the restaurant? …Hell, probably. But at least then the whole ring thing would have been out of my hands.'

“Ach! Damn,” Angela swore softly, a spoonful of dark chocolate sauce dripping down the front of her shirt. “Hang on, I have to go wash this off,” she said, jumping up from her seat and hurrying to the bathroom.

‘Here’s your chance,’ he thought, bolting toward the vending machines next to the door. ‘Go Genji go!’

When Angela returned to the dining room, she found Genji nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet, his hands clutched behind his back. “…Genji?”

“I just want to say, this is _not_ how I planned this,” he blurted, his cheeks warm. “I had a whole speech written, but it was in the pocket of my suit…” he trailed off, swallowing. “But, Angela…you’re the love of my life, and I’ve been all over the world and done a lot of crazy things, but I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you…”

“Oh my God,” Angela gasped softly, barely able to hide her smile behind her hands.

Genji slowly dropped to one knee and swallowed thickly, pulling his hand from behind his back to reveal one of the small plastic capsules from the vending machine. The ring inside had a large, neon green plastic stone set in a cheap gold-tone band, and rattled quite loudly with every motion.

Stunned silence overtook the dining room, followed by a few snickers as the moment dragged on. The uncertainty prompted Genji into speaking again.

“I-I bought a real ring, but it was in the restaurant when it burned down, a-and Hanzo said the insurance probably won’t pay out for about 6-8 weeks, but I’d already pulled my name off my family register, and-and—”

Angela’s hand surged forward, snatching the capsule out of Genji’s hand. She wrenched it open with surprising speed and jammed the severely undersized ring on her finger, the slight pinch not even registering as she flung her arms around Genji’s neck, tears prickling in her eyes.

“Are you going to ask me to marry you or not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Koseki' is the Japanese family register. All births, adoptions, marriages, divorces, and deaths are recorded in it, and it's considered the legal proof of all such events. It's the only document you have to produce to prove things like citizenship, paternity, etc. and it replaces things like separate marriage licenses, birth certificates, etc. However, because it's family/household-based rather than tied to an individual, it can make things difficult in cases of a falling out, abuse, etc. (And in cases like Genji and Hanzo, where their family are known criminals, even just a relevant excerpt from their koseki might have unfortunate legal implications for them.)
> 
> \----
> 
> Navajo Tacos
> 
> https://newfanglednative.wordpress.com/2011/05/05/navajo-taco-recipe
> 
> Frybread  
> INGREDIENTS  
> 3 cups all purpose flour  
> 3 teaspoons baking powder  
> 1 teaspoon salt  
> 2 handfulls of powdered milk  
> warm water  
> cooking oil or lard
> 
> DIRECTIONS
> 
>   1. Mix dry ingredients in a large bowl. 
>   2. Slowly add warm water. Continue until dough is slightly sticky.
>   3. Cover dough and let rise for 20 minutes. 
>   4. Begin heating 1 to 2 inches of oil or lard in a cast iron skillet or pan. 
>   5. Once oil is hot, test it with a small piece of dough. If a small piece of dough sizzles and floats, your oil is ready.
>   6. Break off a piece of dough about the size of a tennis ball and stretch or roll out into a circle.
>   7. Gently place the dough in oil. (You may need to poke a hole in the middle to prevent large bubbles from forming underneath and cooking the bread unevenly)
>   8. When golden, turn the bread over.
>   9. When finished, dab off excess oil
>   10. Repeat until all dough is used.
> 

> 
> Taco toppings:  
> Seasoned ground beef  
> Pinto beans  
> Cheese  
> Shredded lettuce  
> Tomatoes  
> Green onions  
> Avocado  
> Olives  
> Sour Cream  
> Anything else you want on your tacos!
> 
> DIRECTIONS
> 
>   1. Pile on as many toppings as you like onto your frybread!
>   2. TIP: Tear your frybread up first if you don't want to try cutting it with a knife
> 



	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Note: next chapter is pretty much all explicit, so if you're looking to skip that, then look forward to Chapter 26 and all it's mushy domestic glory <3)

_> >ok so does she become angela shimada now or wut_

_> Name change is not automatic upon marriage in America._  
_> She can decide to change it or keep it for professional reasons._  
_> Please, Genji, I’m working and you have time to get everything figured out.  
_ _> Your license is good for 90 days._

_> >i dont no how 2 plan any of this tho_

_> Then let her plan it.  
_ _> Just decide if you’re getting married at the courthouse or your temple or her place of choice_

_> >she sed wherever is fine_

_> I’m going to call and double check on that…_

_> >orz_

_> Also you should let her choose the ring, since you lost the first one. Just give her the insurance payout and let her go nuts._

_> >good idea_  
_> >ur so smart  
_ _> >okok imma let u work_

_> Thank you very much._

No sooner than Hanzo laid his phone aside than it dinged again—a text alert from Jesse this time.

_‘Genji’s getting married??? :DDDDD’_

_‘Yes! He’s finally someone else’s responsibility www’_

_‘Tell him congrats from me and Hana!’_

It wasn’t until after he had received the second text that Hanzo wondered how Jesse could had possibly discovered that Genji and Angela were engaged.

_‘Wait how did you know?’_

_‘The proposal is kinda viral right now.’_

_‘what’_

_‘Go look! Its really cute! :)’_

Hanzo merely stared at the text for a moment before turning back to his computer, only glancing out at the hall for a moment before pulling up the ‘Top Videos’ page. There, in among cats doing cute things and two children poised for disaster with a football, was Angela standing in the middle of what looked to be an ice cream shop, with Genji on bended knee.

“This guy just deadass asked his girlfriend to marry him with a ring he got outta the vending machine!” muttered the stranger holding the phone. “She look like she ‘bout to divorce him already…”

There was a flurry of movement as Angela lunged toward Genji, and a soft ‘oh shit!’ from the man behind the camera, but as soon as it became clear that she was putting on the ring, a heavily clipped shout went up around the dining room, the camera knocked around slightly as the shop patrons loudly celebrated the kissing couple on the ice cream parlor floor.

…Well, that was certainly Genji-like. Hanzo just hoped that the proposal he had planned for the restaurant would have been a little less demonstrative. For curiosity’s sake, he checked Angela’s timeline and saw a photo she had posted of her left hand, a $.25 ring meant for children jammed on her finger and the comment of ‘I SAID YES!!!!!’

“At least they’re well-suited to one another,” Hanzo mused, shaking his head before turning back to the papers strewn across his desk. He had to get the last few bits of paperwork squared away to meet this week’s deadline on his arbitration case, then he was supposed to observe Lena and Bastion’s hearing that afternoon. He’d made a promise, after all; Lena wanted moral support while she argued her first real case in an American courtroom.

Another text alert from Jesse sounded, and he couldn’t help how easily it turned his head from his work.

_‘btw you got any plans for this/next weekend?’_

_‘Things are up in the air right now re: Genji’s wedding.’_  
_‘But I want to see you again soon! (:’_

 _‘me too honeybee :)))’_  
_‘Maybe let me know if you’ve got a free lunch?’_

_‘I think I’m free this Thursday’_

  
_‘Me too’_  
_‘I charge on Fridays tho ;)’_

_‘You rogue. How much?’_

Hanzo let out a distressed warble as he realized he had actually sent such a flirtatious message, though McCree’s response was too swift for him to apologize.

‘(Aubergine ≊ Eggplant)(Droplet )(Aubergine ≊ Eggplant)(Droplet )(Aubergine ≊ Eggplant)(Droplet )’  
_‘ooooh lord have mercy Hanzo!’_  
_‘For you, I might give ya a discount ;)’_

Hanzo hid his face in his hands, his cheeks heating up as flirty messages flew back in turn. A little smile tugged at his lips, in spite of it all. He did want to see Jesse again, explore a bit more, dip his toe into intimate waters…

...Genji probably wouldn’t be getting married _this_ weekend, right?

* * *

His usual sick pit of nerves was missing as he pulled into McCree’s driveway, replaced with something closer to the excitement he felt on his way to trial. He’d brought enough work to keep himself occupied while Jesse did his own work, whatever that might entail. Surely, he could keep out of the way of filming this way, too…

He adjusted the strap of his laptop bag on one shoulder and was pulling a small duffel bag out of the passenger seat when he heard the front door open.

“Hey Han! Whatcha got there?” he heard Jesse call.

“I, ah…I think I’ve brought everything I need for the weekend,” Hanzo said, fiddling with his shoulder strap again. “I’ve got my laptop, clothes, some snacks and ingredients to share, my own shampoo and shaving supplies…”

“That’s quite the bug-out bag you got there, honeybee,” Jesse chuckled, reaching out to take it. “We ain’t goin’ camping, we’re jes’ staying in together.”

“I-I know, I know,” Hanzo replied, blushing softly. “I just don’t want to be an inconvenience. I know you have work to do as well…”

“Aww. baby, you ain’t an inconvenience,” McCree smiled, leaning down and pecking Hanzo on the cheek. “Let’s get yer stuff squared away, an’ you can come in an’ check my ramen eggs—been marinadin’ ‘em all day.”

“You made ajitama?”

“Well, me an’ Hana are takin’ a quick break from filming, but yeah. Wanna make yer recipe good an’ proper,” he grinned, turning and heading up the porch steps.

“What, exactly, _is_ your recording schedule?” Hanzo asked, pressing the lock button on his key fob and following.

“We record a new episode or two every week, then seed ‘em into the airing schedule. I recorded each Chuckwagon Challenge episode the week it aired. Oh, an’ every month I’ve got my Patreon livestream,” he mused.

“You keep busy,” Hanzo remarked, toeing off his shoes in the entryway.

“Well, I imagine yer even busier, spendin’ all that time in court an’ such,” Jesse smiled, setting Hanzo’s bag down on the couch.

“I…actually spend most of my time in the office,” Hanzo shrugged. “Not _every_ case goes to trial. Hardly any, really…”

“Sssh, let me make yer life as glamorous as you are, honeybee,” Jesse winked. Hanzo blinked, his cheeks warm. Him, glamorous? Jesse was the famous one…

“Heeey, is that our favorite DragonLawyer?” Hana called, leaning against the frame of the passageway, sipping at her Banana Milk.

“Good evening, Miss Hana,” Hanzo smiled, “If you have a free moment, I would be happy to look over your contracts.”

“Oooh! Wait, you really mean it?” she asked, grinning, “My agent is back in Korea, so someone a little closer would be a big help.”

“I think I could work out a discount for my services, as long as you don’t need me to _write_ you a contract,” he chuckled. “I’m confident I could review one with minimal billed hours.”

“Awww, you’re so sweet,” she smiled, hurrying into the room and giving him a hug. “You can definitely keep this one, Jesse.”

“Glad he continues t’ meet yer standard of approval,” Jesse smirked, sliding an arm around Hanzo’s shoulders. “But I’d keep ‘im no matter what,” he winked.

“Ready to get back to recording?” she asked, backing up and slurping loudly.

“Better have our expert check everything over,” Jesse replied, rubbing the space between Hanzo’s shoulder blades.

“Oh, I trust your ability,” Hanzo said, his hands wrapped around the strap of his laptop bag.

“Aww, c’mon, it ain’t every day you get t’ sit in on the filming of an episode of Cooking Cowboy,” Jesse grinned. “You can stay on Hana’s side of the camera, it’s fine.” Hanzo worried his lip for a moment, considering the possibility. On the one hand, it might lose a bit of magic, but on the other hand, opportunity to observe the behind-the-scenes production was too good to pass up.

“…Alright, just a quick look,” Hanzo smiled, setting his bag next to the duffel on the couch.

* * *

“Now, if’n ya want some more East Asian cuisine from the Chuckwagon, check out these videos here,” McCree said, pointing finger guns into the empty air. “Be sure t’ subscribe for new recipes every Tuesday, Thursday an’ Saturday—and if ya head on over to Patreon an’ make a per-episode donation, y’all can get access t’ exclusive recipes, livestreams an’ more. This month’s livestream is set fer tomorrow, so you can catch me live on-air if ya hurry!” he grinned.

“‘Til next time, y’all, I’m Jesse McCree, yer Cooking Cowboy,” he winked, smiling warmly at the camera.

“Aaaaand cut,” Hana said, pausing the recording. “Let’s get everything arranged for the outro card while it’s still nice and steaming.”

“You got it,” Jesse nodded, carrying the bowl carefully over to the dining room table and arranging it in the one empty space available there.

“‘Scuse me,” Hana said, slipping between Hanzo and Jesse to turn on another camera, aimed at the spot in question. She carefully focused and waited for the broth to quit it’s gentle sloshing before recording. “Everybody hold still, we don’t want any shadows,” she explained, pressing the ‘record’ button.

Of course, the moment she began recording, Hanzo had to itch his nose. It was perhaps the longest 30 seconds of his day, between that and the absolutely delicious bowl of noodles in front of him. He’d taste-tested between takes, and it was almost exactly like the broth back home. Of course it wasn’t exact—Jesse hadn’t been freshly stewing the broth for days, but had used broth he had made ahead of time, and the Chinese soup stock he mixed it with wasn’t exactly a secret family recipe, but it was more than close enough…even better than their half-improvised first attempt.

“Alright, let’s dig in,” Hana grinned, turning off the camera and hurrying into the kitchen. “C’mon, Hanzo, let’s get fresh bowls.”

“I suppose Jesse _did_ make quite a bit,” he mused.

“Always cook plenty fer these episodes—sometimes we gotta do multiple takes, so I always make a lot,” Jesse smiled. “I try not t’ need retakes, ‘cause it’s a bit wasteful, but Hana’s dad always appreciates it.”

“Mmm, you bet,” Hana grinned, scooping noodles into a fresh bowl.

“Well, let’s tuck on in, darlin’,” Jesse smiled, ladling up a bowl of soup for Hanzo. "Glad t' share another bowl with ya," he said, carefully passing the bowl to Hanzo with a wink. "Can't wait t' share even more this weekend," he murmured in Hanzo's ear, his hand falling to Hanzo's back.

* * *

 

Hanzo fidgeted in his place on the bed, anticipation sending shivers through him that he could only think to disguise by restlessly shifting. He _wanted_ Jesse, he _wanted_ this…but without the umeshu taking the edge off like last time, his nerves were beginning to get the better of him. The bathroom door opened, catching his attention immediately. Jesse tossed his flannel shirt into the hamper before turning back to the bed, his muscular hairy chest exposed in all it’s glory.

“Hey,” Jesse purred, slowly strolling across the bedroom.

“H-hey,” Hanzo replied from the center of Jesse’s bed, smiling in spite of his warm cheeks. He giggled as he watched Jesse crawl onto the bed in a rather non-seductive way thanks to his still-present jeans, scooting close and resting a large hand on Hanzo’s knee. Hanzo tensed for a moment—only a moment—and Jesse’s hand retreated.

“Was that okay?” Jesse asked, his hand hovering a centimeter or so away.

“Yes, it’s fine,” Hanzo murmured, shifting closer and leaning against him. “I’m just…nervous, I suppose.”

“Aww, don’t be, baby,” Jesse smiled, rubbing small circles into Hanzo’s knee and kissing his temple chastely.

“It’s just, ah, performance anxiety,” Hanzo replied, snuggling closer. The warm bulk of the cowboy was reassuring and firm. After a few moments of drawing strength from that broad chest, Hanzo carefully looped his leg over Jesse’s thighs, shifting into his lap with a shy little smile. “I suppose ‘excited’ is a better term,” he whispered, reaching up and stroking Jesse’s fuzzy jawline.

“Jes’ t’ let you know, I’ve got protection and lube. Y’know, dependin’ on where the night takes us…there’s nothin’ to slow us down,” he purred, rubbing Hanzo’s thighs.

At that declaration, Hanzo hesitated.

“Nothing to slow us down…” he murmured.

“Unless _you_ wanna slow down, of course,” Jesse smiled.

“…We had ramen last time, too,” Hanzo remarked, his gaze falling to somewhere around Jesse’s throat. “Not exactly an aphrodisiac…”

“Seems t’ work jes’ fine fer us, though,” Jesse purred, laying back against the bed with a grin. Hanzo chuckled, his laughter slowly beginning to escalate.

“True, true,” Hanzo laughed, leaning down to kiss Jesse a little more fully, his tension ebbing. “…Alright, let’s see where the night takes us,” he smiled, his cheeks flushed with pleasure as he pressed closer to Jesse with a pleased moan, his thighs tightening around Jesse’s hips.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sexytimes I cut away from at the end of last chapter! (Happy birthday to me, I guess lol)

Jesse’s warm, rough hands gently ran along Hanzo’s thighs, savoring the light dusting of hair he found peeking out from beneath Hanzo’s boxer-briefs. God, the man above him was gorgeous—more than Hanzo realized. Elegant and refined and absolutely _adorable_ when he laughed, even when Jesse knew it was because he was nervous. He couldn’t get enough of him, and now that he had Hanzo for the whole weekend, he hardly knew where to start.

Well, he knew where he wanted to finish, at least. He wanted Hanzo to absolutely take him apart with those strong hands and his soft lips and that cool, confident voice. He wasn’t quite sure how to tactfully ask Hanzo to fold him in half without scaring off his skittish lover, however…

‘We’ve got all weekend…I’m sure we can work our way up to it…’

He leaned up to catch Hanzo’s lips, moaning softly into the kiss. God, his kisses were so gentle, a savoriness lingering on their lips and tongues. His hands slid along Hanzo’s hips, gently feeling out his trim waist and the elastic of his underwear.

Hanzo’s hands rose to cup Jesse’s face, feeling every single one of the soft scruffy hairs under his fingers as he deepened the kiss. He was so warm and inviting, even if Jesse’s greater experience in the bedroom was a bit intimidating. He tried to take comfort in his knowledge, to allow Jesse to take the reins and trust in him, but that made him unpleasantly anxious. But this? This was wonderful. He felt perfectly in control—he felt like a king, with Jesse’s adoring gaze and curious hands on him.

“…What shall we do now?” Hanzo asked, his heart skipping a beat as he pulled back, gazing down at Jesse with a lazy smile.

“Oh honeybee,” Jesse breathed, “I can think of about a hundred things I wanna do with you,” he smiled, his rough fingers running up Hanzo’s back, his shirt gathering as his hands gently felt out the smooth skin and firm muscles he found there. Hanzo’s cheeks warmed, a nervous giggle leaving him.

“I’m afraid my imagination is not quite so active…” Hanzo replied.

“That’s okay, honey,” Jesse purred, leaning up and placing a warm kiss against Hanzo’s throat. “We can start simple.” He pulled Hanzo’s shirt up over his head, dropping it to the floor before trailing kisses down his neck.

Hanzo sighed quietly, nearly melting under the gentle brush of his soft lips and slightly scratchy beard. Those inviting little touches, reverent and sure, had him melting against Jesse’s body, molding to fit his form. “Feels so nice,” he murmured, his cheeks warm as he relaxed into the larger man’s affections.

“Heh, got plenty more where that came from, darlin’,” Jesse smiled. “Keep goin’?” he asked, his fingertips rubbing little circles into the muscles of Hanzo’s lower back.

“Mmm…yes,” Hanzo sighed. “Believe me…I will let you know if I’m displeased,” he added, chuckling softly as he felt Jesse’s hands slide lower, teasingly over his buttocks.

“Noted,” Jesse grinned, keeping his squeezes as light as possible.

“…You can squeeze a _little_ harder than that,” Hanzo grinned in return, smiling against the thick column of Jesse’s neck.

“Heh… _noted_ , darlin’,” he chuckled, giving Hanzo’s butt a firmer squeeze. Their chuckles melded together, Hanzo’s hands exploring a bit more in playful retaliation. His touches stalled after a moment, however, a sudden wave of self-consciousness overtaking him again.

‘You’re not even drinking, you have no excuse for such uncouth behavior—’

‘ _Shut up_ _shut up_ _! I want to make_ _love_ _with my boyfriend, is that too much to ask?!_ ’

As if to prove his own desire, Hanzo pressed a firm kiss to Jesse’s lips, loving the feel of the other man’s moan against his lips, rumbling between their chests, warming his very core.

“You doin’ okay, honeybee?” Jesse asked, his lips brushing against Hanzo’s as he spoke.

“Yes,” he insisted, his hands rising to card through Jesse’s thick brown hair. “I want this. E-even if I need a break, I want this with you,” Hanzo murmured, his thighs squeezing at Jesse’s hips again. His heart skipped a beat at the gesture, at the heat that he could feel just beneath him.

“I ain’t gonna push ya, darlin’,” Jesse said, his groping tapering off to gentle, comforting squeezes at his waist.

“I know, and thank you,” Hanzo smiled. “…I really enjoyed that…that first time you visited my home. Touching each other…”

“Mmm, you wanna do somethin’ like that again?” Jesse offered, giving Hanzo a curious smile. “Jerk off together?”

“…Yes, please,” Hanzo replied, his cheeks hot but his smile remaining. He leaned down and kissed at Jesse’s jaw, smiling as he nuzzled against his soft beard.

“Y’ain’t been readin’ any of those advice columns again, have ya?” Jesse asked, chuckling softly as his hands traced up and down Hanzo’s spine.

“No, I learned my lesson,” Hanzo chuckled, kissing down McCree’s neck and sighing at the man’s scent.

“God, baby, I love it when you laugh,” Jesse whispered, his hands exploring the planes of Hanzo’s body. All the territory was relatively unexplored—every inch felt brand new.

“I love it when you make me laugh,” Hanzo purred, his cheeks warm as he spoke but his words sincere.

“You think yer ready t’ start, or d’you wanna warm up a bit more?” Jesse asked, his fingers running just under the elastic of Hanzo’s waistband again.

“…If by ‘warm up’ you mean turn on the heater,” Hanzo giggled. “It’s a bit cold in here.”

“You got it,” Jesse grinned, slowly sitting up and nudging Hanzo off of him and kicking his shirt over the air conditioning vent. The setting sun would still heat the house for a little while, and without the little bit of cool air coming in, the room would quickly rise. “We can climb under the covers for a bit, too,” Jesse said, unbuttoning his jeans and working them down his thighs. As the cool air hit him, he found the covers more and more appealing.

Hanzo pulled the blankets and quilts over himself, grinning as he watched McCree strip and hurry back over, his plaid boxers disappearing under the covers in a flash as he settled next to him.

“Alright, now where were we?” Jesse asked, his strong arms slipping around Hanzo’s waist and urging him close. It didn’t take much convincing for Hanzo to lay against him again, shyly touching his feet to Jesse’s. “Dang, yer toes are chilly,” he remarked.

“Sorry,” Hanzo grinned, “I took my socks off too soon, it seems.”

“’S fine,” Jesse smiled, pulling Hanzo on top of him again and tracing along the other man’s thighs. “We’ll get ‘em warmed up in no time,” he winked. “Want me t’ give ‘em a rub?”

“That sounds lovely,” Hanzo smiled, sitting up and pulling the blankets up around his shoulders. Jesse was quick to sit up as well, his hands cupping Hanzo’s calf for a moment before sliding farther down over surprisingly narrow ankles to gently begin massaging Hanzo’s feet.

He hadn’t really looked before, but there was something almost delicate about them. His feet were rabbit-like, long and narrow and holding the promise of surprising power and steadiness. Hanzo’s toes flexed as Jesse put a bit of pressure on his arch, a soft sound leaving the man. He laid back against the bed, going a bit limp as he allowed Jesse to rub and manipulate his foot as he saw fit, his smile growing wider and his cheeks hotter.

“Wonderful,” Hanzo sighed, his eyes sliding closed as Jesse’s hands worked over him, rubbing little circles into his heel and the ball of his foot, running firm touches down the arch, stroking him from his ankle to his toes… A little shiver ran through him as Jesse moved to his other foot, carefully warming his toes between his palms before setting to work. “You’re—ah, you’re very good at that,” he moaned softly, squirming lightly on the bed as Jesse kneaded at his heels.

“You got a lotta tension, honeybee,” Jesse purred, leaning down and kissing the top of Hanzo’s foot with a grin. “Well, y’ _had_ a lotta tension,” he amended, smiling down at the man on his bed, watching as Hanzo’s head rolled back and forth as Jesse’s fingers worked, how his back arched, how he reached his arms up above his head in a long, sensuous stretch, the _very_ noticeable bulge in his boxer-briefs…

“Mmmnh, keep going,” Hanzo moaned, one hand falling to shyly shield his eyes as he flexed his toes in Jesse’s grasp again, “I’m sure you can find some tension somewhere else,” he added with an impish grin.

“Ohh, you know I can,” Jesse purred, his hands sliding up Hanzo’s calves again to gently rub at the top of his thighs. He shifted on the bed, leaning down to kiss at Hanzo’s stomach as his fingers explored, rubbing, squeezing, flitting between planes of skin and tight fabric. Jesse leaned farther, his lips teasing the well-defined line between Hanzo’s pecs before shifting slightly, his lips and tongue tracing the edge of Hanzo’s tattoo, feeling the quickening of his heartbeat in his lips. “Beautiful,” he whispered, his hands rising slowly as he rose back up.

Hanzo bit his lip to hold back a cry as Jesse’s rough, warm hands cupped his chest, his back arching to press into that touch. But then it was gone, his hands working at his shoulders. Hanzo pouted up at Jesse, earning a soft laugh from the cowboy.

“What’s that look for?” he asked, his thumbs and forefingers digging into _incredibly_ tense knots in Hanzo’s muscles.

“Tease,” he huffed, his eyes sliding closed as he let Jesse work at his shoulders, only opening one partially as he felt Jesse shift. Hanzo groaned as Jesse settled on his hips, just barely keeping his full weight off the man beneath him. Hanzo’s own hands began to wander, sliding up the tense muscles in Jesse’s thighs and daring to slip inside the legs of his boxers a few inches.

“Who’s teasin’ who now?” Jesse chuckled, leaning down again to kiss Hanzo’s slightly parted lips. When he settled back again, he pressed back against Hanzo’s crotch with a little more intent, rolling his hips playfully and letting out a breathy little sound at the heat he could feel. His sound was almost entirely lost beneath Hanzo’s moan, however, and his motion was overshadowed by the roll he received from Hanzo. “Ooh, honeybee,” Jesse keened, his hands sliding back down to rub and squeeze at Hanzo’s pecs again, his thumbs sliding down to gently flick across his nipples.

“J-Jesse—!” Hanzo cried, his flush creeping down his neck as his cowboy kneaded him like dough, his touches overwhelming in a way he’d rarely experienced: a _good_ way.

“Too much?” Jesse asked, his voice growing soft as he lightened his touch; maybe that last little bit had gone too far—

“Jesse McCree, don’t you _dare_ stop!” Hanzo gasped, his chest heaving under those firm touches, his own fingers digging into the meat of Jesse’s thighs in return.

“Oh…oh, you like that, huh?” Jesse purred, leaning into his hands slightly and feeling the rumble of Hanzo’s moan in his chest. _That_ was a yes if he’d ever heard one. “You wanna stay right here, or keep goin’?”

“More,” Hanzo begged, his plea a bit unhelpful—at least until his hands left Jesse’s thighs and rose to squeeze at his buttocks, pulling him down against his hips.

“Ohh, pumpkin, you got it,” Jesse moaned, leaning down to give Hanzo a hot kiss before pulling back for a moment, twisting around and fumbling for something in his nightstand drawer. Hanzo sat up with a huff, his eyes widening as Jesse turned back with a few condoms in hand. “Better safe than sorry,” Jesse said, handing one to Hanzo. “Not that I don’t trust you or nothin’,” he added quickly, “Makes clean-up a lot easier.”

“Indeed,” Hanzo chuckled, hesitating only for a moment as he realized he was going to have to take off his underwear in front of McCree. It wasn’t like he’d never been naked around other men before—nobody looked or cared at an onsen—but he’d never been naked _in bed_ with another man.

‘But it’s Jesse…that won’t be so bad, right?’

Hanzo caught motion out of the corner of his eye as Jesse shimmied out of his boxers, his gaze falling to Jesse’s hips. He was big—not terrifyingly big, not like some of the dicks he’d seen in some porn, probably proportional if he were to think about it, but… _big_. The man purred softly as he rolled on his condom, the tips of his fingers disappearing for a moment into the thick thatch of hair at the base of his cock before retreating. He leaned back, casually observing his own dick for a moment before letting his eyes shift over to Hanzo’s legs.

Hanzo blushed, but followed suit, pulling down his boxer-briefs and trying not to look at his own dick, eagerly bouncing as it was freed. He swallowed hard as he tore open the little packet, rolling the rubber down over his enthusiastically curved cock.

“Ain’t that a sight?” Jesse purred, his rough hand stroking Hanzo’s calf for a moment. “Damn, baby, yer gorgeous.” He leaned closer with a smile, kissing at the corner of Hanzo’s mouth. “You ready?”

Hanzo chuckled softly at the little kiss, his heart skipping a beat as he pressed a fuller kiss to Jesse’s lips, sliding his arms around his cowboy’s shoulders. He pulled back for a moment as he felt Jesse’s legs slide around his hips in return, half in Hanzo’s lap as he settled against his body with a grin. After shifting his own legs slightly to accommodate the bulk he now found pressed close, Hanzo nuzzled Jesse’s fuzzy jaw for a moment, soaking in his cowboy’s heat. His hands ran up and down Jesse’s firm back, the memory of their last time returning. Almost shyly, Hanzo dragged his nails up Jesse’s back again, earning him a groan and, most surprisingly, a nudge from Jesse’s cock.

“Mmmnh, you remembered,” Jesse purred, his lips falling to Hanzo’s neck as he shifted his position, his fingers stroking down Hanzo’s stomach. “You wanna take care of yerself, or you want me t’ jerk you off?”

Hanzo’s heart skipped a beat, and he tried to rock into the other man’s touch. “…Y-you can do it,” he whispered, the thrill of the idea making his head spin.

“You got it, baby,” Jesse smiled into Hanzo’s shoulder, kissing and nibbling. “You don’t have t’ return the favor…but yer free to if y’ want,” he added, planting his heels into the bed for stability as he dropped a hand down, carefully capturing Hanzo’s cock in his hand.

At the touch, Hanzo let out a shaky breath, his legs tensing in response to the first foreign touch on his dick in ages. It was just gentle touches and squeezes for the moment, but it felt heavenly. He dug his fingers into Jesse’s back and pressed his face into Jesse’s shoulder, breathing as deeply as he could with how he was twisted around. “W-wonderful…” he panted, mouthing at Jesse’s salt-tangy skin.

Jesse toned in reply before leaning back a bit, twisting back toward the nightstand and retrieving a small bottle of lube. “Let’s smooth things out a bit,” he murmured, pouring a glob in his hand before running it over Hanzo’s cock in a quick, expert stroke.

Hanzo shivered at the ease of the motion, his head tipping back as he tried to relax into Jesse’s slow, smooth strokes. He hooked his ankles together behind Jesse’s back and reclined slightly, his hand running down Jesse’s chest for a few moments before curiously stroking Jesse’s dick in return. The other man sighed, his strokes slowing for a moment as he poured a dollop of lube on his own cock, smiling up at Hanzo.

Jesse’s cock was hot and heavy in his hand, and though it was a bit intimidating, it was well-behaved; it sat easily in his grip in spite of it’s size, giving lazy throbs as Hanzo’s fist slowly glided along, twisting with each pump.

“Is this okay?” Hanzo asked softly, pushing himself farther upright as his legs tightened behind Jesse, his cheeks hot.

“Feels great, darlin’,” Jesse purred, cupping Hanzo’s cheek and pulling him in for a kiss. His lips and tongue were gentle and comforting, warm and wet and soft. Hanzo found himself leaning into the kiss, a happy little giggle bubbling out of his throat as he slid his own tongue back against Jesse’s, his heart fluttering as Jesse playfully sucked at his tongue.

“Careful where you put that thing,” Jesse chuckled, diving in for another kiss and trading playful nibbles with Hanzo. Seeing his shy little honeybee coming out of his shell made his heart sing, even if it was just exploring in private. He could be happy with that for a good long while.

Hanzo’s hand moved with greater certainty as he found a comfortable rhythm, Jesse’s hand teasing pleased little sounds out of his throat as he teased and rubbed.

“J-Jesse,” he panted, leaning closer and resting his forehead on Jesse’s shoulder for a moment. “It’s…it’s good,” he moaned softly.

“Yeah,” Jesse groaned, digging his heels in and rubbing Hanzo’s back as he worked, his thumb gliding along the underside of Hanzo’s cock, teasing the tip at the top of each stroke. “You close, baby?”

“Yes…y-yes,” Hanzo gasped, swallowing hard as he rocked his hips in confirmation.

“Mmm, me too, honey,” Jesse whispered in his ear, the hot breath sending a pleased shudder through Hanzo’s body. Jesse’s hand rose, his fingers running through Hanzo’s long black hair, pressing their foreheads together as he redoubled his efforts. His languid, teasing strokes grew shorter, faster, more focused, prompting Hanzo to do the same; his strokes were quick, demanding, almost fluttering…incredible. “That’s it, c’mon…I’m almost there, baby,” he panted, his nose mashed against Hanzo’s as he sought as much contact as possible.

“Ah, y-yes Jesse…I’m—I’m going!” Hanzo whined, his thighs shaking with tension as the heat in his belly began to blaze out of control. He’d never bothered to learn the proper English term, and Jesse didn’t seem to misunderstand anyway. His grip on Jesse’s shoulder tightened, his breath grew heavy—each drawn breath accompanied by a needy moan. A sudden shudder ran through his body as the fire consumed him, a loud cry leaving him as he came.

“Ah, good, baby, that’s good…” Jesse moaned, feeling Hanzo tense and twitch in his hand, heat spreading down from the tip of his condom. He hissed in a breath as he felt his body clench up and unwind like a snapping rubber band, coming with a groan under Hanzo’s quick fingers. He wrapped his arms around Hanzo’s shoulders, moaning softly as he rolled his hips into Hanzo’s hand, chasing that warmth.

The two held each other for several long moments, Hanzo taking a moment to wipe his slick hand on his discarded underwear before holding on to Jesse, relaxing against him as Jesse gently guided them both down onto the bed.

This, Hanzo thought with a smile as Jesse started a bit of quick clean-up, was going to be a good weekend.


	26. Chapter 26

“Is this thing on?” Jesse’s face and bare chest appeared in frame, his hair adorably mussed. “Alright, y’all,” he whispered, “This is another one of my guerrilla cookin’ streams. No way Hana’s awake right now, so ain’t no stoppin’ me,” he winked, the motion slightly sleepy.

He began gathering ingredients in relative silence, arranging flour and butter and eggs and bacon and over a dozen other ingredients.

“So…my boyfriend spent the night again last night,” he murmured, smiling as he worked, “I can’t wait for y’all t’ meet him, but he’s awful shy around the camera. Y’all know how it is.” He cracked several eggs in a bowl and began whisking them, sprinkling in a touch of salt before leaving the frame for a moment. There was a bit of light as the fridge opened and closed before he returned with ingredients from the night before; soy sauce, the dashi stock, mirin, all into the egg mixture.

“Anyhow, he’s still sleepin’, so I thought I’d get up early an’ make him some breakfast in bed. But we gotta keep quiet—don’t want him wakin’ up and spoilin’ his surprise,” Jesse winked. Even in the weak morning light, Jesse chopped bell peppers and cubed ham and fried bacon expertly; he could probably do it blindfolded at this point.

“Anyhow, I ain’t told y’all much about him, since he’s such a private man, but I figure I can brag on him a little bit, anyway,” he continued, laying the bacon across paper towels to cool before saving most of his grease and pouring the chopped greens into the frying pan. “He’s so smart, an’ funny…and he loves cookin’, of course, so it’s a match made in heaven,” he grinned, tending what would soon become omelet fillings.

“We’ve been datin’ fer a few solid months now, an’ I tell you what, every day I jes’ wanna climb up on my roof and shout about my little honeybee…but I’ve kept it contained. Mostly,” he chuckled. “He’s awfully busy, though, so we usually only get together ‘bout once a week for dinner. Sometimes, he even cooks fer me—an’ y’all, if he ain’t the sweetest li’l chef! He’s so serious ‘bout gettin’ everything jes’ right, tryin’ t’ impress me when I’m already head over heels for this boy…hoo,” he grinned.

“But now I get him all to myself all weekend, an’ if he thinks _he_ works hard t’ reel me in, he’s got another think comin’,” he smirked, starting to cook the egg mixture. “Gotta show him I can bring home the bacon an’ cook it to boot.” Silence reigned for several minutes as he carefully made batter and squeezed orange juice and cooked the egg, wary of burning it. He sprinkled cheese over his eggs before tipping his crisply fried vegetables into the center and folding it neatly in half, sliding the completed omelets onto the plate.

“Mmm, smells great, y’all,” he winked. “I’ll probably write up the recipe later an’ post it somewhere, be on the lookout. Next up, some flapjacks—y’all know my recipe fer that already, though,” Jesse smiled, pouring his batter into the pan and setting to work. “Ain’t even the first time I made ‘im breakfast, neither,” he grinned. “Daggum, last time I pulled out all the stops, cooked ‘bout as quick as I could—think he just ‘bout called in sick to work to stay home with me,” he tittered. “I figure it’ll only take two, maybe three more breakfasts ‘fore I got him on bended knee at this rate.”

One after another, perfect little pancakes slid out of his pan onto a plate, a few disappearing into his mouth as he worked. “Don’t tell nobody I snuck a few,” he winked, chuckling as the evidence was broadcast to the internet at large. “Now, where’s that tray…?” he mused, disappearing from the frame again for a few minutes before returning with a rustic little wooden tray, a smile on his lips as he arranged his omelets and pancakes and bacon.

“Alright, y’all, I’d take y’ up to meet my baby, but I don’t think he wants that wake-up call,” Jesse smiled. “Maybe someday, I’ll get him on screen for y’all t’ fawn over, but ‘til then, he’s jes my little honeysuckle.” His gaze fell to the breakfast tray, a hint of uncertainty wrinkling his brow. “I hope this is enough, is all…I jes’ want him t’ feel loved, really show ‘im what he means to me…” He sighed, setting the orange juice on the tray and quickly putting on a smile. “Well, guess there’s still lunch an’ dinner fer me to prove my love! Wish me luck,” Jesse smiled, reaching over to turn off the stream.

‘‘I jes’ want him t’ feel loved’…ain’t that the truth fer everyone in this world?’

‘‘Course—but he’s pert near all alone out here, ain’t he? Jes’ like I was… He deserves it.’

Jesse nodded to himself, smiling as he carefully climbed the stairs with his precious cargo. The upstairs was still silent, which was promising. He nudged the door open, smiling at the sight that greeted him.

His bedroom was filled with the gentle morning light, beams of gold pouring through the blinds and spilling across the off-white walls. Nestled among pale linen sheets and colorful, hand-sewn quilts was his precious honeybee, his black hair spread messily around his head. In sleep, all tension left Hanzo’s face; his lips were slightly parted, his brows relaxed, his hands and arms lightly curled and tucked next to his cheek as if holding something precious and soft. Jesse set the tray down on top of the cedar chest at the foot of his bed before sitting on the edge, smiling at the sight before him. He almost didn’t want to disturb something so sweet as Hanzo’s sleep.

“Hanzo? Wake up, honey,” Jesse whispered, leaning close and kissing Hanzo’s cheek. Hanzo shifted softly in response, curling up a bit with a quiet groan.

“Five more minutes,” he slurred, a small smile coming to his lips as he heard Jesse laugh.

“Y’ain’t gotta get outta bed,” he purred, shifting off of his perch. “But I got somethin’ for ya.”

“Mmmnh, what’s that smell?” Hanzo asked, his eyes finally sliding open as he felt Jesse leave his side.

“Breakfast,” Jesse grinned, presenting the tray and moving carefully to Hanzo’s side. “Made ya an omelet with Japanese-style eggs, an’ some pancakes, bacon an’ fresh-squeezed orange juice.”

“Aaah, my hero,” Hanzo smiled, “Bringing me food…”

“Gotta appease the Dragon Lord,” Jesse winked, setting the tray over Hanzo’s lap. He moved a few pillows behind Hanzo’s back before moving over to his side of the bed, sliding onto it as carefully as possible to avoid jostling the juice; washing quilts was a pain in the neck.

“A wise choice,” Hanzo nodded sagely, settling in and cutting into the omelet. The egg was fluffy and moist, and the colorful peppers inside were shiny and crisp at the corners. His first mouthful was bursting with flavor, as expected from such a lovely dish. The hot crunch of the peppers, the tiny sweet bite of the onion, the smokey ham with it’s crispy corners—and the egg! Hanzo let out a soft sound of appreciation as he tasted the dashimaki tamago, the egg savory and juicy and sweet, smooth and sponge-like and slightly sharp; the hint of cheddar cheese skated beneath the rich egg like a knife beneath silk. He could eat this _forever_.

“Y’like it?” Jesse asked, shifting slightly and smiling at Hanzo with a touch of trepidation.

“I _love_ it,” Hanzo sighed, his head rolling back on his shoulders for a moment as he savored that first mouthful.

“I call it my East-meets-West Omelet,” Jesse grinned, shifting closer at Hanzo’s approval of the dish. “Well, I’ll call it somethin’ like that when I write it up, anyway.”

“Oh? Was this an experiment, then?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Jesse smiled, “Ain’t never used that Japanese egg recipe in an omelet before, but I thought it might be an interesting twist.”

“It’s wonderful,” Hanzo smiled. “The umami in the egg and the heat of the pepper balance well.”

“Good! That’s what I was goin’ fer,” Jesse continued, leaning against Hanzo slightly and smiling. “Same way that pepper an’ onion goes with other proteins like beef. Jes’ thought I’d kick up the savoriness of the eggs a bit.”

“It’s a good idea,” Hanzo smiled. “Your tamagoyaki is impeccable,” he murmured, quickly eating another mouthful and moaning at the flavors.

“Aww, gosh sugar, yer gonna make me blush,” Jesse smiled.

“Good,” Hanzo smirked, peering up at Jesse from under his slightly messy hair before darting up for a quick kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> McHanzomelets for Two  
> Inspired by:  
> https://www.justonecookbook.com/tamagoyaki-japanese-rolled-omelette/  
> http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/food-network-kitchen/western-omelette-recipe-2011477
> 
> INGREDIENTS
> 
>   * 4 large eggs
>   * 3 Tbsp dashi
>   * 2 tsp sugar
>   * 1 tsp soy sauce
>   * 1 tsp mirin
>   * 2 pinches salt
>   * Neutral cooking oil (e.g. vegetable, canola, etc.)
>   * ½ c sliced onion
>   * ⅓ c sliced red bell pepper
>   * ⅓ c sliced green bell pepper
>   * ½ c cubed ham, chopped bacon or crumbled chorizo
>   * ¼ tsp fresh chopped thyme
>   * ¼ c shredded cheddar cheese
> 

> 
> DIRECTIONS
> 
>   1. Heat a pan with oil over medium-high heat. Add onion, bell peppers, your meat of choice, and thyme to pan.
>   2. Saute for 4 minutes, or until vegetables are crisp and tender. Remove from pan and set aside.
>   3. Gently whisk eggs in a bowl.
>   4. Combine dashi, sugar, soy sauce, mirin and salt and pour mixture into the egg, gently whisking to incorporate.
>   5. Heat the pan again over medium heat and add oil. Pour half of the egg mixture into the pan until it covers the bottom. Poke at any air bubbles to burst them.
>   6. After about 1 minute, check the edges of the egg, lifting one half and tilting the pan to allow uncooked egg to move to the bottom of the pan. Repeat with the other side.
>   7. When the center of the egg is just set, sprinkle cheese over the egg. Then add half of the meat and veggie filling.
>   8. Run a spatula around the edges to loosen the omelet, then fold it in half and slide onto a plate.
>   9. Repeat to make one for your darlin’!
> 



	27. Chapter 27

Hana sat up with a long, languid stretch, her hair a mess in her face and a textbook sliding off her bed as she shifted. The first item she reached for wasn’t her dropped book, of course, but her phone. Maintaining an online presence across multiple nations was hard work, but _somebody_ has to go put on a bit of make-up and take an ‘I woke up like dis #d.va #귀여워’ selfie.

She was casually flicking through her inbox as she brushed her teeth when she saw the notification— ‘CookingCowboy is live now – Guerrilla Stream!’

“Oh great,” she muttered, rolling her eyes as she began looking through other Jesse-related alerts. A lot of posts on /r/chuckwagon were rolling in, and a lot of the sudden surge in #CookingCowboy activity looked to mostly be keyboard smashes and ‘OMG IM DIE’-type comments.

“Jesse, what did you do this time?” she sighed, taking the plunge and watching the video.

* * *

Hanzo descended the stairs with almost total silence, his footfalls whisper quiet. He’d left his duffel bag in the living room, a fact he hadn’t remembered until after he’d already begun showering, and though he’d dried off as much as possible, the need for clean clothes still reared it’s head.

He paused in the hallway at the sound of a keyboard, poking his head into a room he hadn’t yet examined on his few visits to Jesse’s home.

It was clearly an office, the room filled with warm morning light, shelves full of clearly well-loved books, a stack of cookbooks and old recipe cards next to the broad shoulders of his love. “Jesse?”

Jesse’s head whipped around in surprise, a smile quickly coming to his lips. “Hey honey,” he smiled, pushing away from the desk slightly and reaching for Hanzo’s hand. “Yer half naked,” he chuckled.

“I just got out of the shower,” Hanzo replied, smiling in reply as he held his towel in place. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, y’know, writin’ stuff,” McCree replied, glancing back at the screen. Hanzo leaned closer, his brow wrinkling.

“‘Joel Morricone’?” Hanzo asked, looking at the site Jesse was writing for.

“Yup. I’ve got four or five pen names I write under,” Jesse smiled, gesturing to the color-coded calendar next to his desk.

 _CC – Tues./Sat._  
_Joel Morricone – Mon._  
_Clark MacLeod – Deadline by Thurs._  
_Jennifer Lily –15 th each month_  
_Marco Jimenez – Wed._

“Wait—Jennifer Lily?” Hanzo sputtered, leaning closer. “ _You’re_ Jennifer Lily?!”

“Heh, guilty as charged,” Jesse smiled, leaning back a bit. “Surprised?”

“I’ve been reading your restaurant reviews for years!” Hanzo cried, “You’re absolutely _scathing_ ,” he added, a twinkle in his eye.

“Heh, gotta admit, I _do_ like writing for Jenny,” Jesse chuckled, “Kinda fun, breaking out of my usual lane.”

“You certainly keep busy,” Hanzo remarked, leaning back to prevent himself from dripping on Jesse’s desk.

“Gotta,” he smiled. “I’m my own boss, after all.”

“What about Hana?” Hanzo asked.

“She’s a mentor, not a boss,” Jesse replied, “Mostly,” he chuckled. “Why don’t you go get dressed, an’ we can find somethin’ to do together?” Jesse offered. “I got all weekend t’ work on my Morricone column.”

“No, no, I have my own work, I wouldn’t want to take you from your duties,” Hanzo smiled, leaning down to kiss Jesse’s cheek. “I can do my work in the living room, don’t feel you have to leave your work to entertain me for the morning.”

“If yer sure, honeybee,” McCree smiled, reaching out and taking Hanzo’s hand again, giving him a gentle squeeze. His phone buzzed and he glanced down, smiling as Hanzo’s hand slipped out of his like silk, the motion gentle and cool as he retreated from the room.

‘WHAT DID U POST THS MRNING JESSE’  
‘OMG’  
‘DID U DO A FACE REVEAL OR SMTH’  
‘DOES HANZO KNO’  
‘WTF’

‘whoa there slow your roll darlin’

‘DONT U WHOA THERE ME’  
‘I S2G MCCREE’  
‘IT’S NOT EVEN PATREON’  
‘DID YOU DO A FACE REVEAL AND NOT EVEN MAKE IT PATREON ONLY????’

‘what? No’  
‘i didn’t do a face reveal’

Jesse sighed and laid his phone aside as more messages began to come in. A few more moments passed before he heard a long, tortured groan drift out of the living room.

“…Hanzo?” Jesse rose from his desk and padded into the living room, frowning as he found Hanzo sitting on the floor next to his duffel bag, his face bright red and hidden in his hands. Had Hana texted him or something? Did Hana even have his number? “…Uh, everything okay, darlin’?”

“My brother…is the worst,” Hanzo mumbled into his hands, unmoving. Jesse crouched down next to him and looked over his bag, peeking inside and feeling heat creep up in his cheeks as well.

Apparently tucked inside when Hanzo wasn’t looking was a gift box containing approximately two fistfuls of condoms, along with a bottle of lube complete with a silk ribbon.

_Hanzo,_

_Thanks for everything you’ve done to help us out! Genji and I wanted to repay you somehow, so we thought we’d make sure you and your boyfriend were well-supplied this weekend._

_I’ve included some helpful pamphlets from the hospital on safer sex_ _and consent_ _, and I would be happy to schedule a full STD screening for the both of you._ _(I don’t know the last time you got screened, but knowing your status and the status of a new partner is important!) Until then, we want you to be safe._ ♥

_Liebe Grüße!_

_Angela_

“Seems a might unfair t’ blame Genji fer a letter Angela wrote,” Jesse mused.

“He must have put her up to it,” Hanzo muttered, “Angela is _much_ more tactful than this.”

“…Why did she think we wouldn’t have our own condoms and lube?” Jesse asked, chuckling softly. Hanzo’s laughter was slow to begin, but it quickly grew.

“I don’t know,” he laughed, “Perhaps Genji is more perceptive than I thought…” Hanzo took a deep breath before turning back to his bag, shoving the condoms out of the way and digging for fresh clothes.

“You, uh, want me t’ gather all these li’l suckers up?” Jesse asked, inspecting one of the blue foil packages.

“Yes, please. Other than that, there is nothing embarrassing in my bag for you to find,” Hanzo sighed, rising and clutching his towel tightly.

“Oh! Honey, did you wanna be on the livestream tonight? We can find some way t’ hide yer identity…” Jesse offered, scooping the condoms into a little pile.

“…Is it wise?” Hanzo asked, chewing on his lip.

“Well, if ya don’t, yer jes’ gonna have t’ sit in total silence behind the camera fer the whole time,” Jesse smiled. “C’mon, get dressed an’ we’ll figure it out.”

* * *

“Alright, looks like everything’s runnin’ nice an’ smooth,” Jesse mused. “Hey y’all, welcome to this month’s Cooking Cowboy After Hours Patron-only livestream,” he grinned, leaning into the frame and watching the slight delay on the laptop screen, pointed into the kitchen. “Got me a special guest tonight that y’all are gonna go _nuts_ for. Y’all wouldn’t drop the bone, so here he is…my guest, DragonLord89!”

A figure awkwardly shuffled into the frame, trying to find his mark. He wore a pair of mirrored sunglasses and a surgical face mask, his hair covered by one of Jesse’s cowboy hats.

“Hello,” he waved, shifting a few inches to the right to better situate himself in the frame.

“Hoo boy, lookit that chat,” Jesse laughed, tugging Hanzo over to the computer.

 _> omgomgomgomgomg_  
_> FUCK YEAH DRAGONLOOOOOOORD_  
_> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) _  
_> holy shit am I actually seeing DragonLord89 on my screen right now?_  
_> sexy  
_ _> fuck I’m upping my pledge right NOW_

“Aw, look, yer popular,” Jesse laughed. “Alright, DragonLord, what are we makin’ tonight?”

“We are cooking a…‘Chocolate Stout Cake’,” he read, peeking under his sunglasses for a moment to read the card.

“Heck yeah—always save my boozy recipes fer these After Hours streams,” Jesse winked. “So the centerpiece to this cake is a good stout. We’re usin’ Guinness tonight,” he continued, holding up a couple of cans of beer.

“There will be plenty left over for drinking, too,” ‘DragonLord’ chuckled.

“Darn tootin’,” Jesse winked. “That is, after all, part of After Hours. Sharin’ recipes and craft beer recommendations.”

“Remember what we drank when—when we first met up?” Hanzo asked, choosing his words carefully.

“Heh, yup. Blonde ale, right?” McCree smiled.

“Yes, exactly,” Hanzo grinned behind his mask. “Delicious. I haven’t been able to find it since.”

“Maybe we’ll jes’ have t’ go back to that bar sometime,” McCree winked, nudging Hanzo with his hip.

“Jesse,” Hanzo scolded, his tone playful, “I believe we were cooking something?”

“Heh, keepin’ me on track. This here cake is a more grown-up version of the standard chocolate cake, and it’s worth the effort. We’re gonna need all the essentials—flour, bakin’ powder, bakin’ soda, butter, eggs, brown sugar, cocoa, a bit o’ salt, vanilla, an’ our secret ingredient, stout. We’re usin’ Guinness extra stout, since it’s what they had at the store in single cans,” Jesse explained. “Not that I think we’d have trouble knockin’ down some long necks.”

“Certainly not—stouts are delicious,” Hanzo nodded sagely.

“Thought you said you weren’t much of a beer drinker,” Jesse replied.

“Perhaps you have expanded my horizons, cowboy,” he smirked, his expression completely obscured by his disguise. “Shall we cook?”

“I think we’d better!” Jesse laughed. “Alright, first thing’s first, get the oven preheated to 350 an’ grease a round cake pan. I put some parchment paper in the bottom, too, t’ help get it out once it’s cooled, or you can use a springform pan, whichever you got.

“Next, we wanna get all the dry stuff sifted together, ‘cept fer the brown sugar. We need to cream that in with the butter. Which d’ya wanna do?”

“I’ll let you handle your mixer,” Hanzo said, taking one of the glass bowls and shifting to the side. “Are we still in frame?”

“Yeah, jes’ check the video feed right there,” Jesse said, pointing to the laptop. “Wave t’ the folks at home, darlin’,” he added, smiling.

“Hello again,” he smiled behind his mask, giving another wave.

 _> omg he’s so cute_  
_> can’t see his face but wow his arms_  
_> I LOVE HIS VOICE AND THOSE CHEEKBONES OMG  
_ _> take me daddy_

“Alright, DragonLord, you go ahead an’ sift all that together. Now, creaming butter is a delicate procedure, an’ you wanna do it with butter a little under room temperature—do like I done, an’ take it out an’ cut it up ahead of time, then when it’s time t’ cream it, it should be close to the magic temperature of 68 degrees. If it gets too warm, creaming won’t work, it’ll all jes’ collapse into buttery sand.”

“Like whipping cream,” Hanzo observed, “You have to do it cold.”

“That’s right—lookit you, gettin’ ahead of the game.”

“I learned from the best,” Hanzo chuckled, stirring slowly to avoid spilling.

“Alright, this is gonna be noisy and a little rough, if ya know what I mean,” he winked, pulling out his hand mixer. “Three to five minutes on medium-high oughta do it, but it ain’t pretty. Yer mixer’s doin’ heavy work aerating all this butter an’ brown sugar.” Jesse dumped the cubed butter and brown sugar together and gave it a few quick mixes with a spatula before firing up the hand mixer. The motor whined as the cool butter clung to the beaters, Jesse’s steady hand keeping the large bowl steady as he whipped.

“Wouldn’t the standing mixer be better?” Hanzo called over the mixer.

“Not fer video,” Jesse called back, “Can’t see through the metal bowl. Standing mixer with the paddle attachment’ll cream yer butter an’ sugar in about 3 minutes, hand mixer closer t’ five.” He paused the beater for a moment, scraping the sides of the bowl. “Make sure ya scrape the sides, or the batter’ll get streaky later,” he explained.

“You could have saved the explanation for when—” Hanzo began, the sound of the mixer firing up again cutting him off. “ _For when you turned off the mixer._ ”

 _> why is DragonLord dressed like the invisible man?_  
_> YO JESSE IS DRAGONLORD89 YOUR BOYFRIEND?_  
_> oooooooo_  
_> I bet he is_  
_> arrgha gh gha rjkdfnbklnareb.kerg_  
_> i stg guys_  
_> I became a Patron for this just now guys omgggg  
_ _> wow that beater noise is super annoying_

“Whew, alright, now add cold eggs one at a time to the mix, to keep the butter from gettin’ too warm,” Jesse explained, cracking an egg and mixing with a spatula. “Keep scrapin’ the sides while ya work! Then pour in the vanilla, an’ then it’ll be time fer my lovely assistant to get t’ work.”

“I just double-checked, we add a third of the dry mix first,” Hanzo said, carefully attempting to divide the contents of his bowl with a wooden spoon.

“Yup. Then half the stout, then repeat ‘til we’re outta stuff to add,” Jesse smiled, cracking open the can and pouring out a cup, the creamy head billowing up to the top and turning the almost black beer the color of cafe au lait. “Ordinarily we’d be using the Guinness glass, but they ain’t exactly metered out fer cups.”

“We have those glasses ready for later,” Hanzo piped up, earning a chuckle from Jesse.

“Oh, jes’ look how pretty it is, though!” Jesse grinned, pulling the camera close and showing the surge, the creamy head rising and leaving the dark ruby behind. “Almost as pretty as somethin’ else in this room,” he winked. “I’m talkin’ ‘bout y’all, of course!” he added, pointing his finger guns at the camera. “Alright, let’s get this thing back where it belongs,” Jesse murmured, returning the camera mostly to its original position.

“So again, we add the dry ingredient first,” Hanzo said, gently adding some of the dry mix to the creamed butter mix and stirring it with a spatula.

“Yup—once we got that in, it’s half of the stout, an’ we mix again,” Jesse replied, carefully pouring in half of the stout and stirring. “Make sure it’s carefully folded, we don’t wanna overmix nothin’. Then alternate ‘til we’re outta stuff to mix in.”

“What, exactly, is overmixing?” Hanzo asked, leaning against the kitchen island.

“When ya beat batter or dough too much, it develops the gluten, like when ya knead bread. Fer somethin’ soft like muffins or cakes, y’ don’t want a gummy bread texture, so ya gotta be careful not to overmix. Gotta be careful not to over-knead bread, too, or it’ll get tough. In this case, we can pro’lly use the hand mixer on low and still keep it nice and even.”

Hanzo nodded and carefully tipped in some more of the dry mix into the batter bowl, watching as Jesse periodically fired up the hand mixer for a few moments to incorporate everything.

“It smells wonderful,” Hanzo smiled, dipping his finger into the batter and raising it to his mouth, only to remember the mask he was wearing a moment too late.

“Heh, need a hand there, darlin’?” Jesse asked.

“I may need a new mask,” Hanzo chuckled, turning away slightly and pulling the mask off, licking the chocolatey batter off of it.

> _HIM BEARD_  
_>_ DADDY  
_> this is the quality content I pay for_  
_> beard daddies omggggg  
__> sexy af_

“Does it still look okay?” Hanzo asked, holding it up for Jesse to appraise.

“Eh, still a little chocolatey,” he replied.

“Alright,” Hanzo shrugged, putting the mask on backwards. “Better?”

“Heh, better,” Jesse nodded. “Alright, let’s get this batter in the pan, pop it in the oven, an’ crack open our beers. That goes for y’all at home, too—again, tonight’s beer is Guinness Extra Stout. Kinda got a coffee-like flavor, an’ the head is creamy an’ thick, like a root beer float almost. It’s really smooth, with a bit of a dry finish and very, _very_ roast-y and warm.”

Hanzo carefully poured the batter into the cake pan, smoothing the top methodically with a spatula. “Get the oven door,” he instructed, handing the spatula to Jesse.

“Yessir,” he winked, opening the oven and watching Hanzo slide it in. “Is this fer me?” he asked, licking the spatula.

“It’s your spatula,” Hanzo chuckled, shutting the door. “How long do we cook it?”

“Set it fer 40 minutes, then check it with a tester, like a toothpick.”

“Very well,” Hanzo nodded, setting Jesse’s steel egg-shaped kitchen timer. “...So what do we do for forty minutes?” he asked, turning back to the camera. “Do they just watch us bake?”

“Yup,” McCree winked, heading for the cabinet and taking down two pint glasses. “Meantime, we drink. Why don’t you carry these into the parlor, an’ I’ll bring the camera an’ such?”

“Oh, not the front porch?” Hanzo wilted slightly.

“It’s a little breezy outside today, the audio’d be all distorted. We ain’t miked up fer outdoors,” Jesse explained, pouring the beers carefully, allowing the head to build.

“Pity,” Hanzo sighed, “Not that the parlor isn’t nice as well,” he added, accepting the glasses with an unseen wink. Wearing his ‘disguise’ was…oddly freeing, the same way he felt empowered at work, commanding the courtroom like a general, controlling everything on the field from the judge’s attention to the opposing counsel’s course to his own simmering anxiety.

‘I wonder if this is just how actors do it all the time? Slipping into rolls like different suits…’

‘Probably. Don’t a lot of actors have similar problems? I thought I read that somewhere…’

Hanzo set the glasses down on the coffee table before sitting primly on the loveseat, waiting for Jesse to join him. He appeared after a few moments, carefully arranging the laptop and camera before ducking back for the power cable.

‘You okay?’ Jesse mouthed, his brow wrinkled with worry as he plugged the laptop back in. Hanzo nodded, flashing him a quick thumbs-up to confirm. He would be okay…yes, as long as Jesse got over here onto the couch and distracted him from the incoming messages…

 _> DreeeEEEEEEEEEEeeeeEEEEEeeEEEEEaaaam Daddy_  
_> hey DragonLord how long u been with Jesse?  
_ _> Is your body from McDonalds? Because I’m lovin’ it_

“Alright, y’all, it’s gonna be a while ‘fore the cake is ready t’ come out of the oven, so we’re gonna do everyone’s favorite part of the livestreams—drinkin’ an’ Q&A!” Jesse grinned, dropping down on the couch next to Hanzo before reaching for his beer. “Y’all know the drill, ask me anything!”

Like clockwork, questions began rolling in.

“Alright, from ‘Please don’t feed the porg’ we’ve got… ‘why are yout both so hot’,” Jesse read, specifically pronouncing the typo. “Well, I work in my garden a lot—an’ Miss Ana has me do a lot of the diggin’ over there, too,” he chuckled. “How ‘bout you, DragonLord?”

“I like to run a few miles every morning,” Hanzo explained, “And when I’m feeling stressed from work, I spend some time at the gym until I’m too tired to think.”

“Aww, now you’re makin’ me feel bad ‘bout yer muscles,” Jesse pouted. “Alright, yer turn.”

“Let’s see,” Hanzo leaned closer to the screen, peering through the shades. “‘That One Cowbelle’ asks, ‘if you could only eat one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be and why?’ Hah, we’ve already discussed this,” Hanzo grinned, leaning back on the couch.

“Yeah, an’ yer answer was _still_ cheatin’!” Jesse shot back, grinning as well. “Go on, then, _DragonLord_ , what _one thing_ would you eat?”

“Heh, sushi, because there are so many different kinds,” Hanzo replied.

“Now ain’t that cheatin’ or whut?” Jesse cried. “Can you believe this guy?”

“Just because my idea was better than yours…” Hanzo chuckled smugly.

“Heh, looks like a whole lotta folks are askin’ ‘bout yer getup there, hon,” Jesse grinned. Indeed, quite the series of questions and remarks had rolled in.

 _> who's the fashion icon next to you_  
_> You know, if you take someone’s cowboy hat off, it means you plan on taking more off of them later. _( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)  
_> why is ur bf dressed like he's wanted for murder_  
_> Is your bf sick_  
_> Or is he famous_  
_> is he ug or shy_  
_> U didnt say you were dating michael jackson_  
_> lol that’s an ancient reference_  
_> is ur bf a pilot, a surgeon, a cowboy or a horrifying mix of the three_  
_> I just became a Patron because I heard Jesse’s boyfriend was on wtf is that_  
_> press f to show respect for bf's face_  
_> f f f f f_  
_> F_  
_> f_  
_> f_  
_> F  
__> f f f f flavortown_

“I…guess I can answer. He’s shy, y’all,” Jesse smiled. “Ain’t quite ready to reveal his handsome mug t’ the internet yet, but he didn’t want t’ sit around doin’ nothin’ while I drank and cooked with y’all.”

 _> Ha! So you ARE dating DragonLord89! Knew he was more than just another fan_  
_> I’m updating the wiki right now slow down  
_ _> he doesn’t look like a dragon_

“Alright, alright, simmer down, y’all,” Jesse chuckled, “DumbledoreDiesOnPage596—hey, spoilers!—asks ‘What’s the worst thing you’ve ever eaten’, an’ since I already answered that in the past, let’s toss that over t’ you, honeybee,” he smiled.

“The worst?” Hanzo replied, searching the ceiling for an answer. “Well…I hate natto. I eat it just to gross out my brother, because he hates it, too,” he began, grinning behind his mask at the memories of Genji gagging at the table as Hanzo did his best to force down natto with a straight face at the same rate their father could eat it. “Ah, there have been a few times where I got food poisoning—I suppose that must be on the list as well. But it wasn’t the dish as a whole, just that instance! Ah…I’ve eaten century eggs in China, but I rather enjoyed them, so perhaps that would only be ‘the worst’ to someone else.”

“Heh, I had one once, too, an’ that’s one thing in the market I definitely will avoid—don’t want my kitchen smellin’ like a litterbox,” Jesse laughed. “Okay, yer turn, go on,” he grinned, sipping at his beer and gesturing toward the screen again.

“‘The Real DragonLord’…you are _not_ the real DragonLord,” Hanzo paused to explain, his frown visible in his forehead at the very least, “Asks, ‘who is your favorite and least favorite celebrity chef?’”

“Aww, y’all know Julia Child is my favorite. She was one o’ the first celebrity chefs, too…always wanted t’ be like her, though I don’t wear my pearls in the kitchen,” Jesse winked.

“And your least favorite?”

“Guy Fieri,” Jesse answered almost immediately. “Does he really count, though? I mean, he’s my least favorite ‘cause he hardly did any cookin’. He was a manager, not really a chef, ain’t he?”

“Fair point,” Hanzo nodded. “Ah, the questions are coming in too fast now…”

 _> How many years has it been since mccree has shaved off his beard_  
_> Whats the most embarrassing thing that happened to you or that you did in school_  
_> What's the biggest cooking disaster you've experienced and how did you deal with it?_  
_> Is your bf as tasty as your recipes_  
_> he looks like he is_  
_> Are you gonna show us how u two do frosting? Oh also how to decorate the cake too._  
_> My SO thinks that mayonnaise is the best condiment to dip fries in, i think its ketchup, settle this debate once and for all  
_ _> For jesse's mysterious bf: does jesse have any hidden secrets in the kitchen? Like does he use any storebought sauces or is everything really made from scratch? Tell us his secrets_

“Ah, here’s one, from, ecks-ecks-ecks…oh Jesse, you need a more mature viewership,” Hanzo sighed, aborting his reading of the screen name, “Moving on, ‘does he actually talk like that? I have a bet going with my friend that I think he fakes it’. Unless, Jesse, you are play-acting even in private, I believe I can confirm that he does, indeed, talk like he does,” Hanzo chuckled.

“Alright y’all, tell ya what,” Jesse began, sipping at his beer, “Once we finish our beers, why don’t we move back into the kitchen an’ we’ll show y’all how to make the Irish whipped cream frosting—we’ll have to wait a long time ‘fore the cake is cool enough t’ frost anyway,” Jesse said.

“That sounds fair,” Hanzo said, leaning as far out of the frame as he could to remove his mask again and drink his beer.

 _> LET’S SEE THE BEARD AGAIN_  
_> omg beard daddy_  
_> BeardLord_  
_> BeardLord pls_  
_> If I up my monthly pledge will you lean back in frame?_  
_> I just got here, is that really Jesse’s boyfriend???_  
_> Well well well, we meet again DragonLord ;)_  
_> Can I assume you might be a little late to the office on Monday? I’m sure I can cover for you  
_ _> (I’m quite jealous, by the way!)_

“Hey now, if anyone should be ‘Beard Lord’, it oughta be me,” Jesse grinned, playfully fluffing his beard.

“Perhaps you can be Beer Lord,” Hanzo mused, “This is delightful.”

“Guinness is an ol’ standard. There are some great craft stouts out there, too…maybe we’ll sample ‘em sometime?” Jesse offered, winking.

“Certainly. I trust your beer judgment,” Hanzo said, his arm and steadily draining glass still in frame.

 _> DragonLord, move closer to your boyfriend  
_ _> Act like you like each other lol_

“Saw somebody ask ‘bout dippin’ fries, and that depends on the rest of the dish, really. If it’s American-style dining, then ketchup is the go-to, but as I understand, mayo and mayo-based sauces are the way the Belgians eat it. Fish an’ chips takes vinegar, of course, an’ there’s poutine up north with gravy, which is _amazing_ ,” Jesse grinned. “…Though I like to use my Sriracha ketchup for fries!”

“Ahh, that was smooth,” Hanzo praised, setting the empty glass down and wiping the creamy foam from his moustache.

“Alright, ready t’ make some frosting?”

“Absolutely,” Hanzo smiled, carefully reattaching his mask.

 _> HIS SMILE_  
_> OMG IM DIE AGAIN_  
_> YOU’VE WATERED MY CROPS DRAGONLORD89_  
_> I SAW A MAN SO BEAUTIFUL I STARTED CRYING_  
_> omg beautiful smile_  
_> i take back my question about him being ug maybe  
_ _> Damn McCree you’re a lucky man_

“Can you grab the power cord an’ I’ll get this little dogie movin’ back to the kitchen,” Jesse said, rising and jostling the video. Hanzo carefully gathered up the empty pint glasses and the laptop power cord before following Jesse back, fiddling with the power cable as Jesse rearranged the setup. “Can ya grab the Bailey’s an’ the whipping cream outta the fridge, too?”

“Of course,” Hanzo replied, thankful for a task. The pressure of being on camera was starting to get to him, even with his disguise. It wasn’t a role he was used to taking, after all…

“Now! Makin’ this is easy, jes’ a little time consuming. We’re gonna put all three ingredients in a bowl, an’ whip the cream ‘til it forms stiff peaks. The key to makin’ yer own whipped cream is ‘start cold, go high’,” Jesse instructed, putting a fresh pair of beaters on his hand mixer. “You’ll get the best results if you keep the mixin’ bowl and beaters in the fridge ‘fore mixin’, too, but, eh, it’ll be alright if ya don’t,” he smiled. “You wanna do the honors this time?” Jesse offered, holding the hand mixer out to Hanzo.

“Ah…if you insist,” Hanzo replied, reluctantly accepting the hand mixer.

“Should only take a few minutes of whippin’ on high ‘fore it stands up on it’s own. I believe in you,” Jesse grinned, squeezing Hanzo’s shoulder.

Hanzo took a deep breath and fired up the mixer, his grip tightening on the mixer as he began whipping.

‘He believes in me…’

‘Don’t embarrass him—’

‘He’s a fool for trusting you—’

‘Alright, that’s enough out of you, I forbid it! Just focus on this one small task and it will be done.’

“Alright, looks like it’s comin’ together!” Jesse praised, grinning, “Jes’ a few more seconds…alright, let’s check it, power down,” he said, resting a hand over Hanzo’s and regaining his attention.

“Ah, right…” Hanzo quickly turned off the mixer, peeking down at the whipped cream.

“You wanna lick the beaters?” McCree winked, popping them out of the mixer and holding one out to Hanzo.

“S-sure,” he laughed nervously, removing his mask and indulging for a moment, his heart rate beginning to return to normal. He’d succeeded—it certainly was whipped cream, rich and decadent. It was alright, it would be alright, he’d managed this far…

“So we’re gonna stick all this back in the fridge, then once the cake comes outta the oven an’ cools, we’ll frost it an’ have a few slices. Buuuut that’s gonna be a couple hours from now, so we’d best let y’all go. Come on back next month fer my Patron-only livestream when I’ll be sharin’ another one of my secret recipes with y’all. Jes’ make sure y’ got a designated driver, as usual!” Jesse winked, licking his beater and smirking at the cascade of comments rolling in before he turned off the camera.

“Is it off?” Hanzo asked, exhaustion coloring his voice.

“Yeah, honeybee, it’s off,” Jesse smiled, shutting the laptop as if to offer proof.

“Good,” Hanzo sighed, pulling off the sunglasses. “That was…longer than I expected.”

“Yeah, jes’ watchin’ the videos on YouTube makes it seem like cookin’ goes awful fast, don’t it?” Jesse said, laying his mostly cleaned beater aside and pulling Hanzo into a hug. “You okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he sighed, gratefully leaning into Jesse’s warmth. “I don’t know how you manage doing this so often.”

“I can’t imagine bein’ on my feet in court all day, neither,” Jesse murmured, plucking his hat from Hanzo’s head and smiling down at him as he returned it to it’s proper place on his own head.

“Like I said, I’m not in court very often,” Hanzo replied, tipping his head back to offer a tired smile in return. “We try to handle things outside of the courtroom as often as possible. It’s faster that way. Look at how long some cases take, after all.”

“Yeah, some of ‘em really drag on, don’t they?”

“And I do try to avoid going back to Japan as much as possible,” Hanzo sighed.

“How come?” Jesse asked, cocking his head to the side.

“My troubles from there have not yet found me here,” Hanzo replied, reaching up and wiping up a touch of whipped cream in Jesse’s beard, “I’d like to keep it that way.” Jesse smiled and gave Hanzo a quick peck on the nose, his arms loosening.

“Let’s get that cake out an’ ready t’ cool, alright?” he smiled, “Maybe we can find a few ways to pass the time,” Jesse winked, sliding away to peek through the oven window.

“I can _certainly_ think of a few options,” Hanzo grinned, giving into a puckish impulse and snatching off Jesse’s hat again.

* * *

“Excuse me, Boss…? May I have a moment of your time?”

“At this hour? …Well, you already woke me up, what is it?”

“Have you seen this video, sir? The other kobun and I think it might be…”

“Ehh? Is that who I think it is? …That explains a lot, the little shit… See what you can dig up. Might have to blow the dust off my passport, pay my wayward sons a visit.”

“At once, sir!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chocolate Stout Cake with Adult Whipped Cream**  
>  INGREDIENTS  
> Cake:
> 
>   * 1 ½ cup of all purpose flour
>   * ¾ cup of powdered cocoa
>   * 1½ teaspoon of baking powder
>   * 1 teaspoon of baking soda
>   * ½ teaspoon of salt
>   * ¾ cup of unsalted butter (room temperature)
>   * 1 ¼ cup of lightly packed brown sugar
>   * 2 eggs
>   * 1 teaspoon of vanilla
>   * 1 cup of stout, ex: Guinness
> 

> 
> Icing:
> 
>   * 1 cup of heavy whipping cream
>   * 1 tablespoon of sugar
>   * 2+1 teaspoons of Irish cream, ex: Bailey's
> 

> 
> DIRECTIONS:
> 
>   1. Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C) after making sure your grid/tray is in the middle of the oven. Grease a 9 inches (23 cm) round cake pan and cover the bottom with parchment paper.
>   2. Sift together in a medium sized bowl the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda and salt.
>   3. In a big bowl, use an electric mixer on a medium-high speed to mix the butter and brown sugar for 3 minutes.
>   4. Add the eggs one at a time, making sure to scrape the edges and to mix everything evenly after each. Add the vanilla.
>   5. With a wooden spoon or a spatula, add a third of the dry ingredients and incorporate them into the mixture. Then add half of the stout and carefully fold it in. Alternate with the dry ingredients, stout, and finish with the dry ingredients. Fold a couple times until everything is evenly combined and homogenous.
>   6. Pour in the cake pan and flatten the surface.
>   7. Bake the cake for 40-45 minutes or until an inserted toothpick comes out completely clean.
>   8. Let the cake cool down in the pan on a baking/cooling rack for 10 minutes, then take out of the pan, take off the paper and pet it cool completely on the rack for another 2 hours.
>   9. Make the icing by mixing the whipping cream, sugar, and 2 teaspoons of Irish cream in a medium sized bowl with an electric mixer. Mix until the whipped cream forms firm peaks.
>   10. Ice the cake with the whipped cream making peaks or swirls with a butter knife for a nice, rustic look.
>   11. Pour the last teaspoon of Irish cream over it.
> 



	28. Chapter 28

Hanzo wasn’t a man who normally enjoyed having his routine interrupted, but he was certainly willing to create a new routine if the situation warranted. A new routine was just what he had created, too.

Work usually wrapped up a little earlier for Hanzo specifically on Fridays, seeing as it was Saturday already in Japan by then, so with a little extra effort, he could head home early, change into something more casual, then grab his overnight bag and hurry to Jesse’s house for the weekend. While Jesse filmed or wrote, he would take a few e-mails or add to his case notes, field panicked calls from Genji (who, as the date of the wedding drew closer and closer, found himself worrying more and more over details like tablecloths and whether it would be alright if the DJ set up on the right side of the stage instead of the center), and taste-test some of the smaller recipes for dips or sauces Jesse was writing up for one of his many other columns.

Hanzo’s Saturday and Sunday mornings had become delightfully lazy, sprawled out with Jesse in his enormous bed—far too large for one lonely cowboy—at first just tangled up in one another’s warmth before grabbing a few mugs of coffee and curling up together once again on one of the oversized armchairs in the parlor. While Jesse cooked their breakfast, Hanzo went for his morning run, then counteracted all the exercise he’d just done by eating homemade pecan waffles and sausages and grits and fresh strawberry jam.

Hanzo chuckled softly, shaking his head as he dismissed yet another panicked Line message.

“What was that?” Jesse asked from in front of the sink, scrubbing his saucepan clean.

“Genji is worried that the shade of gold from one shop doesn’t match the goods from another shop, and he wants to know what he should do about the napkin holders,” Hanzo replied.

“Jes’ make sure he don’t mix napkin holders from different vendors on the same table,” Jesse shrugged. “If all the rings from Store A are on his side of the reception hall, and all the rings from Store B are on hers, no one will even know.”

“Good idea,” Hanzo nodded, picking up his phone. “Have you got your suit ready for next weekend?”

“Had t’ get it re-tailored—been a while since I had to wear it,” Jesse said, looking down at his stomach and chuckling. “Thought we could pick it up an’ get lunch out on the town today, if that’s alright with you.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Hanzo smiled. “I admit, I’m starting to get excited for this wedding, as well.” He rose from his place at the breakfast bar, turning over his mug to Jesse for a quick wash. “I just hope all goes well…”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Jesse asked, his brow creasing slightly. He couldn’t see the barrage of thoughts running through Hanzo’s head, but he knew at least one or two had to be rattling around in there.

“Ah…no reason,” Hanzo said, “I’m sure I’m worrying over nothing.” His gaze slid into the middle distance for a moment, and he drew a breath. “I’m…going to go do some yoga and meditate. If you need anything, please wait until I’m finished.”

“Uh, sure honeybee,” Jesse nodded, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “You want tea or anything?”

“…That would be lovely,” Hanzo smiled softly, the expression not quite reaching his eyes, “Perhaps before we leave for lunch.”

“Nah, it ain’t no trouble, I can brew ya some now—help soothe yer mind,” Jesse smiled, hurrying through the kitchen as if he were afraid Hanzo would disappear. Hanzo let out a soft sigh, leaning against the counter as Jesse set an ornate silver teapot boiling. Whatever it was had a tart smell, and when Jesse finally poured out a cup, it was a deep, rich raspberry pink.

“What is it?” Hanzo asked, watching Jesse drop a few lumps of sugar and a sprig of mint.

“Hibiscus tea. It was a gift from Miss Ana next door,” Jesse smiled, pushing the glass toward Hanzo. “Supposed to be really good for yer heart, relieves tension an’ all that.”

“Thank you, Jesse,” Hanzo said, holding the cup of hot tea carefully as he retreated to the gentle warmth of the sunroom on the opposite side of the breakfast bar. He took a sip of tea before settling into his first pose, a more genuine smile coming to his lips at the unexpected flavor.

‘Maybe this won’t be so bad,’ he managed to think.

* * *

“I must say, Jesse,” Hanzo smiled, his shoulder bumping against McCree’s as he left the tailor’s shop in a charcoal gray suit, “You cut quite a figure in a suit.”

“Babe, I looked like a pauper walkin’ in next t’ you,” Jesse grinned, looking down at Hanzo, whose idea of ‘casual daywear’ seemed more in-line with someone putting in an appearance at a Cannes yacht party, with his sport coat, ivory pashmina scarf and lightly pressed slacks. “I _need_ the suit to even hold a candle.”

“Oh, please,” Hanzo laughed, shaking his head lightly as he linked his arm with Jesse’s. “Where shall we eat?”

“Well, there’s a couple places Jennifer Lily likes,” he winked, “Think we oughta take her word?”

Hanzo opened his mouth to agree when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, his brow wrinkling as he looked at the caller ID: ‘Los Angeles International Airport’. What in the world could they be calling him for…?

“…Ah, excuse me for a moment, a client might need some assistance.” He slowed his pace and let go of Jesse’s hand to answer, his manner shifting to something more even and professional. “Moshi moshi, this is Hanzo Shimada.”

Hanzo’s eyes widened for a moment before narrowing in anger, his ears flushing red as he listened.

“Enough. _Enough!_ Don’t say anything to _anyone_ until I arrive. Do you understand? Not another word. …Yes, I’ll be there,” Hanzo growled, hanging up with a great deal of spite. “I’m afraid our date must be cut short, I have a client in custody at the LAX substation.”

“D’you need me to drive you there, or you gonna get a cab?” Jesse asked, trying to disguise his alarm at the situation. Hanzo sighed, turning back to Jesse with an apologetic look.

“If you could deliver me to the airport, please,” he began, tucking his phone away, “I would be most appreciative.”

“Maybe we can find somewhere to eat after?” Jesse offered, hoping to salvage at least some of Hanzo’s good mood from earlier.

“Perhaps,” Hanzo sighed, “I’m so sorry, Jesse…”

“Hey, duty calls, I understand,” he smiled, resting an arm around Hanzo’s tense shoulder. “Love ya,” Jesse added.

“…I love you, too,” Hanzo whispered, his expression still stern.

* * *

“Wait here,” Hanzo instructed at the door to the LAX substation. “I don’t know how long this will take, I’m afraid, and you cannot join me in the interrogation room.”

“Wouldn’t want to,” Jesse laughed nervously, “I’d jes’ be underfoot.”

“Please be patient…I’m sorry, love,” he repeated for perhaps the hundredth time that afternoon.

“It ain’t nothin’,” Jesse smiled, removing his hat and sitting in the lobby, his attention immediately shifting around the room as Hanzo approached the front desk.

“Hanzo Shimada, attorney at law,” he introduced, producing his ID and bar certification, “I’m here to see a client.”

“You been here before?” the officer at the desk asked.

“No, I’m happy to say, normally my clients are less felonious.”

“Of course they are,” the officer remarked. “Just down the hall, you’ll see the party.”

“The ‘party’?” Hanzo asked, hesitating at the corner of the desk.

“You’ll see.”

Hanzo could certainly hear a rising group of voices as he approached the interrogation room, taking a deep breath to steel himself before entering the room.

On one side of the table was a group of at least 10 people—representatives and investigators from various agencies, it seemed, all struggling for space at the table, and on the opposite side were just three. Two were clearly bodyguards, if the sunglasses indoors and the suits were any indication, and the third, an older man in an obnoxious suit with a head of salt and pepper hair was cuffed and seated.

“Hanzo!” the man in cuffs cried, grinning, “Long time no see.”

“Save it,” Hanzo spat in return, his face a stern mask over simmering rage. “I am here as your lawyer, _not_ as your son.” With a huff, he sat on the far end of the table, clearly more irritated than all of the agents on the other side put together. “Now. What?”

“Son? Can you even represent a family member in a case like this?” one officer asked.

“There is no ethics violation inherent in a lawyer representing either oneself or one’s family member,” Hanzo stated with enough force to end that line of questioning before it could truly begin.

“Alright, your, uh, client? Father? …Client’s name came up on at least three watch lists when he tried to come through immigration.”

“And? Sojiro Shimada is on a watch list, not a no-fly list. He has the freedom to travel, does he not?”

“That’s a right for citizens.”

“No, that is a right for _persons_. My client is certainly a _person_.”

“What is he doing in the country?”

Hanzo turned to look at his father, his gaze narrowing. “Yes, what _are_ you doing in the country?”

“I’m here for my son’s wedding,” Sojiro said, a smug grin on his face.

“Congratulations,” one of the agents said, nodding in Hanzo’s direction.

“Not me,” he said, his voice sharp and firm.

“Yeah, no, for the one who can actually get a girl, am I right?” Sojiro laughed, nudging Hanzo.

“Restrain yourself before I restrain you,” Hanzo muttered, shooting a sidelong glare at his father. “In any case, yes, my brother is getting married this Saturday at the Southern California Shambali Temple, you can check their calendar or call their office and speak with the head monk to confirm,” he said, his statement more of an exasperated sigh than anything else.

“ _Geez, a little uptight, aren’t you kid?_ ” Sojiro muttered, watching a muscle in Hanzo’s jaw throb.

“ _Silence—you’re only going to make things worse._ ”

“ _With uppity talk like that, you’d better be earning every last yen I pay on your retainer,_ ” his father grumbled, the amusement leaving his voice. He already had to pay triple Hanzo’s typical rate to earn his grudging service, but to have his own son sass him like that? He had more of his mother in him than he realized.

“What I’m struggling to understand is how your client, a yakuza boss, got a visa with a criminal background,” another agent piped up.

“In spite of the criminal reputation, being a member of a ‘ninkyou dantai’ is not illegal in Japan, and Mr. Shimada himself has never personally been convicted of anything more severe than a traffic violation,” Hanzo stated, turning his haughty gaze on his father. “Unless there is something my client has failed to inform me of?”

“Nope. ‘Squeaky clean’, as they say,” Sojiro grinned, tipping his chair backwards like a bored teenager.

“I suppose someone born at the top doesn’t need to earn their way up doing any dirty work,” a gruff agent remarked.

“ _You wanna start somethin’,_ _asshole_ _?!_ ” Sojiro snarled, his aggression held back by both his bodyguard and his lawyer’s arms flying out to catch him.

“ _You see that? That’s the sort of thing that will get your visa revoked,_ _no matter who you paid to get it_ _,_ ” Hanzo growled.

“ _Hmph,_ _I thought you were supposed to be a good lawyer,_ ” Sojiro huffed, crossing his arms as best he could in his cuffs.

“ _I am, but I’m not sure I want to sully my reputation digging you out of_ _that_ _hole_ ,” Hanzo sighed, seeming in that moment far more like the parent in the room trying to rein in a sulking child. “ _Just keep quiet for a week, go to the wedding, then_ _go home_ _._ ”

“Can we get a translator in here?” one of the agents asked, exasperated at the Japanese flying about the room.

“No need, I’m merely attempting to explain the situation,” Hanzo huffed. “I’ll ask your agents to refrain from baiting my client—I know it’s easy, but I think I’d have an equally easy time arguing entrapment, should anything _unfortunate_ happen as a result of such taunts. Now, ask your questions—I’ve got things I would much rather spend my weekend on.”

* * *

“ _Hey, Kosuke, can you get that one agent’s name? Might have some business to take care of when I get back home,_ ” Sojiro muttered as their little group wandered into the lobby.

“ _Oh my God, I didn’t hear that,_ ” Hanzo grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“ _Eh, ‘course you didn’t. Good work, kiddo,_ ” Sojiro grinned, clapping Hanzo on the shoulder.

“‘ _Good work?’ That’s all you have to say? ‘Good work?’_ ” Hanzo snapped, his professionalism slipping more and more by the moment, “ _How about ‘I’m sorry’? For_ _everything—for_ _all_ _of this?! You were wrong, you_ _don’t_ _pay me enough,_ ” he spat, turning and stalking away. “You have my number—I expect _not_ to hear from you until the wedding,” Hanzo added, storming out of the substation, and almost past Jesse altogether, waiting nervously at the door.

“Hanzo?”

“We’re leaving,” Hanzo stated, crossing the road toward the parking lot without concern for the many cabs and buses attempting to navigate the streets; the traffic dutifully parted in the face of such anger.

“H-hey, wait up! You wanna just eat here? There’s a pretty good restaurant—”

“I don’t want to spend another moment here,” Hanzo insisted, “I would rather eat anywhere other than this place. _Please_ , Jesse, take me away from here.”

“Alright, alright, you got it,” Jesse nodded, hesitating to offer Hanzo a touch when he seemed so prickly at the moment.

 

“ _Yuuto._ ”

“ _Yes boss?_ ”

“ _Was that the cowboy from Sho’s video whatsit?_ ”

“ _Looks like it, boss.”_

“ _Hmmm…still don’t know what to make of that one. Whatever, put it on the back burner I guess. Let’s get to a hotel or something, I need a fucking nap.”_


	29. Chapter 29

Jesse was absolutely ecstatic at having a new weekend routine. It was all he could do to keep himself from waiting at the window for Hanzo’s Lexus to pull up—and even then, he often met Hanzo on the front porch with a kiss, anyway. He’d let Hanzo get his weekend necessities tucked away, then watch his honeybee curl up on the couch with his laptop to finish up his work. Some days he had his own work to do, but other days Jesse just sat on the couch with him, his boyfriend happily tucked against his chest as he tapped out e-mails and made notes in Japanese, reveling in each other’s warmth.

He cooked with gusto all weekend, always something new—Irish stew, Tuscan white bean soup, shepherd’s pie, Parmesan roasted potatoes, ham and cheese cornbread breakfast muffins, Mr. Song’s family recipe for bulgogi, Southwestern stuffed bell peppers…there was never a repeat, if he could help it. Jesse wasn’t afraid to admit that he loved playing homemaker while Hanzo was over, either; he was in his element tending to the house and making sure there was always hot water for green tea. Occasionally, he’d have to share him with Hana when she wanted him to look over contracts or help with some esoteric bit of knowledge which Hanzo inexplicably held—or Hanzo would have to share _him_ with Hana when something needed to be re-shot or when she needed some help with her homework, or when she needed somewhere to hide out to call her boyfriend. The days passed easily with his honeybee and his motley little family of neighbors.

The nights were wonderful, too, of course; almost better than the mornings after. The worst part was always 8 AM on Monday morning, kissing him goodbye and knowing it would be at least a few days until they could meet and find a new little cafe or diner to share a lunch date in, or schedule a dinner at a restaurant he’d been meaning to review, or, horror of horrors, wait until the next weekend to see each other again—not counting the quick photos they inevitably sent to one another.

It was heaven.

And then Hanzo got a phone call. A phone call that had lead to a meeting that’d had Hanzo seething the entire way to the airport. A meeting that now had him practically tearing his hair out in the passenger seat of his truck in the parking garage.

“…Honey?” Jesse ventured, reaching for Hanzo’s knee slowly. “You okay?”

“No,” Hanzo said, his voice sharp and soft.

“…You want a hug?” Jesse offered, holding his arms open. Hanzo didn’t hesitate, but he didn’t move particularly quickly as he leaned into Jesse’s embrace, his arms locking firmly around Jesse’s chest. His grasp was like iron, clinging to the soft warmth of his cowboy. “It’s okay, honeybee…”

“ _Damnit!_ ” Hanzo yelled into Jesse’s shoulder, the outburst not relieving any of the stress he was feeling. “…Sorry,” he whispered, his shoulders beginning to tremble.

“Sssssh, there, there… I’m here, baby, I ain’t goin’ anywhere,” Jesse whispered in reply, cradling Hanzo’s head against his shoulder.

“Take me home,” Hanzo whispered, tucking his head under Jesse’s scruffy jaw. “Please…just take me home.”

“Sure, honey,” Jesse smiled, before hesitating for a moment. “…Your house or mine?”

Hanzo hesitated as well, squeezing his eyes shut against the fresh hell that had tumbled into his life and just trying to surround himself with _Jesse_.

“…I don’t care, just don’t—don’t leave me alone,” Hanzo mumbled into Jesse’s collar.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, honeybee,” Jesse smiled, kissing the top of Hanzo’s head. He released Hanzo and turned back toward the steering wheel. “I’ll give ya my hand back once we’re on the road, okay?” he soothed, watching Hanzo press back into his seat and attempt to control his breathing.

It wasn’t until they pulled into Jesse’s driveway that Hanzo was willing to relinquish his death grip.

“Alright, if y’ want, I can pick up yer stuff and take ya back to yer place, or you can stay the night like usual,” McCree said, rubbing Hanzo’s knuckles gently as his grip loosened.

“I have to call Genji,” he murmured, sounding more exhausted than Jesse had ever heard. “He needs to know…”

“Know what? What was all this?” Jesse asked, his brow wrinkling in concern.

“That man at the airport…that was my father,” Hanzo sighed, fishing his phone out of his pocket.

“Y-yer father?” Jesse blinked, racking his brain for anything Hanzo might have said about his parents. Hanzo had said he wasn’t close to his family, but here they were, apparently…in custody as soon as they landed at the airport. But Hanzo wasn’t about to explain, his attention focused entirely on the phone in his hand.

* * *

Genji danced casually as he scrubbed at a casserole dish, a bubblegum J-pop song pouring out of his phone. One of Hanzo’s dragons batted at the tower of bubbles in the sink, his tail flicking as he contemplated the ill-tasting fluff. When the music stopped only to be replaced with another silly tune, the dragon’s ears perked up—he knew Hanzo’s ring tone.

“Moshi moshi~” Genji sang, imitating the tune of Hanzo’s ringtone, “ _What’s up, Han?_ ”

“ _Dad’s in the country._ ”

Genji froze, nearly dropping his phone in the soapy water.

“ _Oh shit. Ohh_ _shit!_ ” Genji snapped, “ _I gotta go._ ” He hung up, immediately dialing the hospital. He needed to protect Angela. She needed to get somewhere safe—

“UCLA Trauma Center.”

“I need to speak to Dr. Angela Ziegler, it’s an emergency!” Genji said, breathless.

“May I ask who is calling?”

“Genji Shimada—her fiance.”

“She’s currently in surgery, can I take a message?”

“Uh…tell her my father is in town, and have her call me immediately.”

“And can I give _you_ a message?”

“Eh?”

“Give her a _real_ ring at the wedding.”

* * *

As soon as Jesse opened the door, Hanzo immediately retreated to the parlor, curling up on the couch with a quiet sigh. “This is a nightmare,” he groaned, draping himself over the arm of the couch.

“You, uh, mind fillin’ me on on what’s goin’ on here, honey?” Jesse asked, sitting next to him cautiously.

“I broke ties with my family for a reason,” Hanzo began, “I wanted nothing to do with that past—I spent years escaping my family history, bringing Genji along, starting a new life here…and now _my father_ , of all people, is here to attend Genji’s wedding—or so he says, I cannot trust him any farther than I can throw him,” Hanzo spat bitterly. “Who knows how many more will be here? How many are already here…”

“Honey, yer worryin’ me a bit with this talk,” Jesse laughed uncomfortably, reaching out and rubbing Hanzo’s shoulder. It sounded like the sort of paranoid conspiracy theories his great uncle Clyde used to be fond of.

“I spent,” Hanzo continued, harsh laughter in his words, “Half my life making myself neurotic, worrying every second of every day about embarrassing them, bringing them shame—I had to go to the other side of the _world_ to escape that pressure—I was driven out of my home, out of my country, but I will _not_ be driven away from here!” he yelled, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He rounded on Jesse, shaking slightly as he tried to hold everything in. He’d broken down because of his family enough times, he refused to be broken by them again.

“I will _not_ be driven away from you,” he declared, breathing deeply and reaching for Jesse’s hand. “I will _not_.”

“Sure am glad t’ hear that,” Jesse smiled, trying to hide his concern. He wasn’t sure he knew how to handle this situation…not when he had come to California for largely the same reason. He had nothing to offer except a smile and a hug.

He just hoped that would be enough…

* * *

“This is Satya Vaswani.”

“Hey Satya, I’ve got a riddle for you—goes something like this. ‘Where the hell are all the Shimadas?’”

“That is not a riddle, it’s merely a question,” Satya said, with no hint of amusement in her voice.

“Don’t be a smartass, just answer me!”

“Genji Shimada is where he usually is on a Sunday night—at home with his fiancée.”

“He’s the least of my concern—”

“Hanzo Shimada is _also_ where he usually is on a Sunday night,” she continued without pause.

“The hell he is! We just buzzed his place and it’s empty.”

“He is with his partner.”

“What partner?”

Satya sighed. “You clearly have not been reading my reports.”

“Of course I have!”

“Then you would know from my report nearly four months ago that he had begun seeing a man named Jesse McCree, and has been spending weekends at his house for the past two months. I want my old handler back. He read my reports.”

“…I read your reports.”

“You do not, and I will be making a complaint to the department supervisor, to the director of the Asian TOC Investigations Division, and to my former director at the DOJ.” Her tone did not vary, but the intention was clear; she wasn’t making a threat, but a promise.

“Maybe I’ll report that you weren’t involved with the interception of Sojiro Shimada at immigration today, too. Chew on that.”

“Of course I wasn't present. Hanzo Shimada is Sojiro Shimada’s lawyer, and it would have compromised my cover to have been there.”

“That’s not what I said, Satya—you weren’t even on the conference call. You’re supposed to be our expert on the ground on the Shimadas in America.”

“I don't have arrest authority, and I received no advance notice that Sojiro Shimada was leaving Japan—his network obtained a visa completely undetected. It’s not my fault,” she explained, her rate of speech speeding up slightly—the only indication that she was under any pressure. “In any case, I've been briefed and supplied with security footage and audio recordings of the interrogation. You can find my analysis in my _next_ report,” she added, her tone returning to normal.

“Right.”

“And if you're still wondering where Sojiro Shimada is, he's staying at The London, West Hollywood under the name 'Johnny Chin'. He's currently enjoying the company of two escorts. I would not advise prying further until they leave—wait…a third has just arrived.”

“Lucky asshole.”

“It is not luck—he is paying them.”

“ _I know_. Ugh…anyway, have you spoken to this boyfriend, this, uh…MacReady?”

“McCree, and no, I have not interviewed him yet. It will have to wait until tomorrow, when Hanzo is at the office.”

“Let me know what you find.”

“You know exactly where my findings will be,” Satya stated, a cutting edge to her voice as she hung up. “I should have just stayed in the DOJ,” she sighed, running her fingers around the smooth circle pattern on the back of her phone case.


	30. Chapter 30

Satya sat low in the driver’s seat as she watched Hanzo’s Lexus pull out of Jesse’s driveway. “Subject left the home of Jesse McCree at 8:06 AM—with traffic the way it is today, he will likely be late to work,” she remarked, speaking into a small recorder. “I will eat my breakfast, then call in my morning absence at the firm, then conduct my interview with Mr. McCree at approximately 9:30. After that, I think I will interview Miss Ziegler at the hospital before her shift ends. Hopefully, if traffic remains consistent, I will be back at the firm in time for lunch, then my afternoon will be spent on the most recent Vishkar case. They will want everyone present at the conference call at 6:00 tonight, no doubt.”

* * *

Jesse tapped away at his keyboard, queuing up the next day’s blog post when the doorbell rang, disturbing his morning rhythm. It was way too early for the mail or any packages… He opened the front door, finding a very well-dressed young woman on the other side.

“Jesse McCree?”

“Uh, yes ma’am.”

“Satya Vaswani, FBI,” she announced, holding up a badge that looked as though the first and last thing she did every day was polish it. “I have some questions I’d like to ask you, may I come in?”

Jesse blinked, but shook himself free of his surprise. “Of course, uh, would you like some coffee?”

“I prefer tea, if you have any,” she replied, stepping into the parlor with barely-disguised caution. He was reminded of Hanzo’s first time coming inside. Hell, maybe she was a fan? If fancy lawyers watched his show, why not FBI agents? Did they even have _time_ to watch TV?

“Earl Gray alright?”

“Yes, please.”

Preparing that pot of tea was the most uncomfortable ten minutes of Jesse’s life since the last 10 minutes he’d spent at his mother’s.

“Do you take milk or lemon with your tea?”

“Lemon, please.”

Jesse took great care in arranging the tea tray, arranging a few madeleines on a plate beside the empty cups and a few lemon slices before carrying his precious cargo into the parlor. “Please, have a seat,” he smiled, setting the tray down on a delicate-looking end table.

“Thank you,” she said without smiling, pouring herself a cup and carefully sliding a slice of lemon into it. “I understand, this must be a surprising visit for you,” Satya began, sipping at her tea and letting out an approving tone. She would have expected nothing less from Jesse McCree, after all.

“Yeah, you could say that,” McCree said, pouring himself a cup as well.

“I’d like to ask you a few questions, is it alright if I record your answers?”

“Go ahead—anything you need, ma’am,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. This must have been serious…

“Now, please, don’t be alarmed,” she continued, turning on a small, discreet recorder and setting it on the tea tray. “But I need to ask you about Mr. Hanzo Shimada.”

Jesse froze. “…Wh-what about Hanzo, now?”

“How long have you known him?”

“Uh…a-a few months now. About 6 months, maybe?” It was six months and twenty-two days, he knew because he’d planned their 6-month anniversary weekend obsessively, but the last thing he wanted to do was sound like some sort of creepy stalker to the FBI.

“Mmm, and how did you meet?”

“Online,” Jesse answered.

“‘Online’ is a big place,” Satya observed, “Can you be more specific?”

“Uh, we met through YouTube, actually—I run a show.” She probably already knew that—she was the FBI, after all.

“Would you say you know his routine?” she asked, still sipping calmly at her tea.

“Yeah—Hanzo’s a real stickler fer routine,” Jesse offered with an uncomfortable laugh.

“Has anything changed recently, in this strict routine of his?” she continued, her dark gaze boring into Jesse.

“Uh…n-no, not really. ‘Sides us spendin’ more weekends together…I-is Hanzo in trouble?” Jesse asked, setting his teacup down and frowning.

“No,” Satya smiled, though something about her response seemed less than comforting. “What about his brother? Has he spoken to you about him?”

“Oh, yeah…I mean, Genji’s gettin’ married this weekend, so we’ve been talkin’ ‘bout him a lot,” Jesse said, thinking back on their recent conversations. “But, uh, I can’t think of anything interesting…we’ve jes’ talked about color schemes, what I’m gonna make to bring to the potluck, stuff like that.”

“Do you know if any other family members are coming in for the wedding?” she asked, setting her cup down.

Jesse froze. Hanzo’s father. He’d been so upset knowing he was in the country—was this why? Was the FBI after Hanzo’s dad?

“Mr. McCree?” she prompted. “Has Hanzo mentioned any other family members entering the country recently?”

“I…I feel like y’all already know the answer to this question,” Jesse replied, shifting back in his chair uncomfortably.

“The FBI is not in the habit of asking questions it already knows the answer to,” Satya began, topping off both her cup and McCree’s. “I assure you, I’m not trying to trap you _or_ Mr. Shimada. I do not believe Hanzo has done anything wrong.”

“Then why are y’ here askin’ questions in the first place?” Jesse asked, his frown deepening.

“Because approximately 20 hours ago, a man who is wanted for leading one of the most prolific criminal organizations in Japan nearly walked out of Immigration at LAX without anyone knowing he had even left Hanamura. He requested his lawyer when he was taken into custody, and he called Mr. Shimada. Mr. Shimada arrived at the airport less than an hour later—in _your_ vehicle.” Satya spoke with all of the confidence and flair of a lawyer about to wring a shocking admission out of a witness on the stand, and it made Jesse squirm. He knew he hadn’t done anything wrong—that _Hanzo_ hadn’t done anything wrong—but he still felt guilty when she used that tone with him.

“I ask you again—did Hanzo say anything to you about any family members coming into the country for the wedding?”

“…No,” Jesse murmured, pressing back into his seat. “N-not until after his dad got here. And Hanzo was _real_ upset about it. Said he’d come here t’ get away from his family, he didn’t want nothin’ t’ do with his dad once he got here, nothin’. Look, whatever his dad might’ve done, Hanzo ain’t got nothin’ t’ do with it, okay? He’s good people. H-he ain’t involved in whatever crimes his dad’s done—he looked like he was ‘bout ready t’ kill someone after spendin’ an hour in a room with him…”

“After watching the tape of the interrogation at the airport, I must say, I understand Hanzo’s reaction to the situation,” Satya sighed; he was so smarmy, she could only imagine how infuriating he must have been to the allistic people in the room with him. “Has Hanzo been in contact with his father since his arrival?”

“No, ma’am,” Jesse replied almost immediately. “But he’s left his phone on silent all weekend. Ain’t picked it up fer nobody, unless he’s makin’ the call himself.”

“I don’t suppose you are the type of boyfriend to check his partner’s phone, either,” Satya smirked, sipping at her tea again.

“No, ma’am,” Jesse repeated, allowing a bare chuckle to leave him. Snooping in Hanzo’s business would never have crossed his mind—not that he’d be able to navigate the Japanese menus, anyway…

“Good. ‘Love is built on trust’, as my father used to say,” Satya said, picking up one of the delicate madeleines and sampling it. “My best wishes to Genji and Angela,” she began, popping the rest of the tiny sponge cake in her mouth before chewing and rising. “Of course, I’ll ask that you not discuss this meeting with Hanzo or anyone related to the Shimada family. Should things go well, you will likely never hear from me again. To be honest, the American Shimadas aren’t troublemakers, they keep their paperwork in order—it frustrates my superiors, but I am happy for Hanzo. It is exceptionally difficult to escape such a family, and he seems to have pulled it off not once, but twice, in getting his brother out of the country as well. I wish the two of you the best, as well,” she said, turning off her recorder and slipping it into her pocket; it rested there so precisely that it didn’t even seem to disturb her jacket’s shape.

“Thank you kindly,” Jesse said, rising from his seat as well, his heart beating a little more rapidly than he’d care for.

“And may I add one thing before I leave?”

“Yer the boss here, I think,” Jesse said.

“I am _such_ a big fan of your work, Mr. McCree—it’s been an absolute _pleasure_ being inside your home and sampling your cooking, even if it was just one madeleine,” Satya gushed—Jesse wasn’t sure how she was able to contain herself until now with how excited she suddenly became.

“Well, it’s a pleasure t’ meet fans,” he laughed, unsure how to handle the fact that he had a fan investigating his boyfriend.

“I’d better not keep you, I’m sure you have work to do for the show,” Satya said, breathless as she headed for the door. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. McCree.”

“Happy t’ be of service…?” he replied, watching as the door swung shut behind her.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I'm so sorry I've fallen behind on this! I've been working on 'zines and my McHanzo Big Bang entry and let this chapter languish on my hard drive for a long, long time.
> 
> Hopefully I'll be able to get back on track with regular updates again soon! (I'm also cooking up something special for y'all, stay tuned!)

“Hey Satya—you’re in late again,” Fareeha smiled, leaning against the front desk.

“Ah, yes,” Satya agreed, glancing around the empty lobby as if there might be some other Satya wandering around.

“I was just about to clock out for lunch,” Fareeha continued, “Care to join me? There’s a great little bistro around the corner. My treat,” she added.

“Ah, I…I already ate,” Satya said lamely.

“Too bad,” Fareeha replied, shaking her head but smiling still. “Perhaps tomorrow, then?”

“…P-perhaps,” Satya said, her heart skipping a beat. “I will have to check my schedule and make sure I have no appointments…” Of course she had an appointment—it was merely a matter of when she could re-schedule it. Wait, what was she thinking…?

“Let me know—you have my number, right?”

“I don’t,” Satya replied—why on earth would she?

“Well in that case,” Fareeha grinned, quickly scrawling her number on a pad of paper and holding it out; instead of a dash in the middle, she had drawn a little heart. “Hope to hear about your schedule soon,” she winked.

* * *

An uncomfortable, wriggling feeling had been taking up residence in Hanzo’s stomach, and it only wriggled more and more as the week wore on. He was pointedly leaving his father’s Lines and e-mails on read, even when they came from his lackeys’ phones, but the show of resistance did little to bring him any actual satisfaction. He was just running away again…

“Hanzo? Hanzoooo… _Hanzo!”_

His gaze shot up and met with Mei’s, a concerned look on her face.

“What?”

“Your phone is ringing,” she remarked, gesturing to it. Indeed, it looked like it was about to vibrate off the edge of his desk. “…Are you going to answer it?”

Hanzo sighed, hesitating only for a moment at the name ‘Sojiro’ on the caller ID before swiping to answer. “Shimada Hanzo.”

“ _Geez, kid, yer harder to get ahold of than someone who owes me money.”_

“ _What do you want?”_

“ _Can’t I want to talk to one of my own beloved sons?”_

“ _I am_ _working_ ,” Hanzo spat, “ _This will show up on your bill, you know.”_

“ _Wouldn’t be the first time I paid someone for conversation, eh?”_

“ _You are absolutely uncouth,”_ Hanzo sighed, “ _I mean it—if this is a social call, I’m hanging up. I have other clients who need to contact me.”_

“ _Yeah, yeah, they keep you busy, I get it,”_ Sojiro said dismissively. “ _Listen, these watch lists I’m on, just how watch-y are they? Like, can I pop over to Las Vegas for dinner and a show?”_

“ _You have all of Los Angeles to keep you entertained and you want to go somewhere else?”_ Hanzo asked, secretly hoping he _would_ leave—although if he then got in trouble, which he strongly suspected he would, he’d be in another jurisdiction…that would severely complicate things, and Genji's wedding was  _so close…_

“ _I’m just askin’ questions! Surveying the landscape and all that. Guessing anything flying-wise is out?”_

“ _Definitely out. The information would go directly into your file and then I would be getting calls from the FBI about ‘why my client was here doing this when you vouched he was supposed to be there doing that’,”_ Hanzo stated.

“ _Alright, so I’ll take the bus.”_

“ _Dad,_ _please_ _,”_ Hanzo groaned. “ _You are making life difficult for me. It’s only three days until the wedding, just_ _stay put_ _. Go wander through Hollywood or something.”_

“ _What do you think I’m doing right now? Heh—hey, my hands are the same size as Arnold Schwarzenegger’s!”_

“ _Delightful,”_ Hanzo muttered, “ _Have fun.”_

“ _Hey, what are you doing for lunch tomorrow?”_

“ _What?”_

“ _I haven’t seen you or Genji since I got here—think we could get together?”_

“… _I’m working,”_ Hanzo said, “ _And I’m not sure what Genji is doing, but I’m sure he and Angela are busy as well with preparations.”_

“ _What about Friday?”_

“ _I don’t know,”_ Hanzo hedged, “ _I’ll get back to you.”_ He hung up without a goodbye.

He _did_ know—the last thing he wanted to do was willingly put himself back under family scrutiny. He didn’t want to be treated like a child at best and a tool at worst. He didn’t want to be the ‘mafia lawyer’, damnit!

“Hanzo?”

“What?” Hanzo growled, wincing at his own tone. “…What is it?” he repeated, trying to force a calmer tone. Satya wasn’t the source of his troubles, after all, and he was grateful for the momentary distraction.

“I…I need some advice,” she said, hurrying to his desk. “Fareeha the pretty security chief asked me on a date but I don’t date and I don’t know what to do…!”

“It sounds to me as if you already know what you want to do,” Hanzo smiled. “Bend your dating rule.”

“But I don’t date! I don’t date like I don’t play American football…I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Why not ask Lena? She has dated women much more successfully than I have,” Hanzo offered.

“I feel I don’t know her well enough to ask such a question. And her personality is so different from mine, I do not think I could apply her advice,” Satya replied, her fingers tracing the buttons at the wrist of her jacket feverishly.

“Would you be more comfortable in a group? Jesse and I could arrange a double date.”

A double date…? On the one hand, it probably _was_ the best option—it would be much easier to get through a date on a team, less pressure, easier to escape difficult situations with grace… But on the other hand, Jesse knew she was FBI. She didn’t want to blow her cover, or put pressure on him to help her keep cover…and oh goodness, she had barely been able to keep cool while interviewing him, would she be able to handle an entire date with one of her favorite celebrities? _But an entire date with one of her favorite celebrities_ … Well, not _with him_ with him—

“I’ll…I will have to get back to you on that, I think,” Satya replied.

“Can I ask for some advice in return?”

“Certainly,” Satya said, her fingers stilling momentarily.

“My father is in town,” Hanzo began, trying to suppress his groan, “And he wants to meet for lunch on Friday. Should I go, or keep avoiding him?”

Oh no. She couldn’t comment on the subject of her investigation like this…!

“It must have been a very long time since you’ve seen him,” she ventured, unfreezing after a moment. It had been five years, six months and twelve days. Unbeknownst to Satya, Hanzo could also pull up the exact number of days since he’d last seen his father. Well, the airport last weekend notwithstanding.

“Yes, but he’s still the same childish oaf he always was,” Hanzo muttered darkly. “I would have hoped that age would eventually have an effect, but…”

“Perhaps that is why he is reaching out? If he is feeling his age, then wanting to reconnect is logical.”

Hanzo sighed, gently rubbing at his eyelids. Perhaps that _was_ the case. Maybe his lifestyle was catching up with him. Hell, maybe he was here for a secret liver transplant, too, and wanted a chance to reconcile in case his black market surgery didn’t go well. Unlikely, perhaps, but someone with his associations _would_ have a difficult time getting into the country for a pleasure trip, and Hanzo certainly hadn’t processed any paperwork for his father lately.

‘But what if you did? Better double check the stuff you’ve been processing on that arbitration case.’  
‘Yeah…and look into the company. Wouldn’t be surprised if it was a Shimada-gumi front, the bastards…’  
‘ _He_ could tell you right away, straight from the horse’s mouth, as Jesse would say.’  
‘He could lie, too.’  
‘He’s too damn proud of himself—if he tricked me into representing the clan, he’d _love_ to tell me about it…’  
‘We have a lot to talk about anyway—’

“Either way,” Satya said, backing out of the room, “It’s your decision.”

* * *

“I’m here against my better judgement, Dad,” Hanzo said, sitting heavily in the café chair and not removing his sunglasses. He deliberately chose to open the conversation in English—this would still be on his terms.

“Hey, so am I!” Sojiro laughed, “How’ve ya been, Sonny?”

“Don’t call me that,” Hanzo muttered, his head in his hands already.

“Hah, sorry, sorry—you were always sensitive, weren’t you?”

“I’m not—!” Hanzo snapped before reeling himself in. “I’m not _sensitive_ , I’m just a grown man who is far too old for such childish nicknames.”

“Alright, let’s meet in the middle and say you’re high-strung, deal?” Sojiro offered, tucking his napkin into his collar like a bib.

“If it will get you to change the subject,” Hanzo sighed.

“Sure sure,” Sojiro nodded, waving the waitress over. “Bring the menu back, will you?” he asked, flashing a dazzling grin. “So! How long have Genji and this girl known each other?”

“Several years,” Hanzo replied, sighing. Of course he would want to talk about Genji—he was Sojiro’s favorite, after all.

‘He’s also _getting married tomorrow_ , get over yourself.’

“Bagged himself a doctor, huh? She’s cute, too,” Sojiro grinned.

“I honestly have no idea how he managed to charm her,” Hanzo began, “But they seem to share a sense of humor, and they make one another happy.”

“Yeah, that’s the best you can hope for, right?”

“Isn’t that what the goal _ought_ to be?” Hanzo asked, raising a brow. “You and Mom were happy.” His mind immediately went to Jesse—Jesse made him so happy…and apparently, he made his cowboy happy, too, if the eagerness to please that Jesse always showed was any indication. The little texts throughout the day, the new recipes every weekend, their slow, sweet lovemaking after—

“Yeah,” Sojiro replied, his smile breaking slightly, “…Yeah, we were. But then again, the family wasn’t happy with me marrying her—that’s how I knew I was on the right track. Ha!”

Hanzo sighed, glancing away slightly. “Did they try to set _you_ up on an omiai?” he asked, distracted.

“Heh, of course they did. I sent them all away screaming, I think—not many nakoudo have ‘would be a good yakuza bride’ folders,” he added in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning across the table and slapping Hanzo on the bicep playfully. Even that touch didn’t draw Hanzo’s attention back.

“Hanzo? …Haaaanzoooo,” Sojiro called, nudging him again. The waitress returned and deposited a menu in front of Hanzo before departing; the silence, however, did not break.

“Look, Dad, there’s…there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“Alright—spit it out, kid,” Sojiro said, relieved that the awkward moment was over.

Hanzo frowned, but sighed. “That day, at the airport…The man who was with me. He’s…he’s my partner.”

Sojiro blinked, surprised by the sudden turn in the conversation. He turned Hanzo’s statement over in his head and thought back to the day he’d landed. Hanzo _had_ left with someone, hadn’t he…?

“…You mean, like at the law firm?” Sojiro asked.

“No,” Hanzo whispered, turning away from his father and squeezing his eyes shut behind his sunglasses. He didn’t want to see the disappointment, the embarrassment, even after all this time, after all the distance he had put between himself and his old life, all the work he’d done to free himself of those heavy expectations. The silence dragged on again for several moments, the anxiety digging beneath his ribcage with every passing millisecond.

“Oh! You mean you’re gay!” Sojiro cried, his face lighting up with understanding. Hanzo’s eyes snapped open, shocked at the tone his father was using.

“…Yes,” Hanzo confirmed, tensing slightly as he waited for the other shoe to drop, and for the nearby café patrons to return to their conversations after his father’s outburst.

“Ha! I figured as much,” Sojiro said, waving a hand.

“Wait—what?” Hanzo sputtered, his eyes widening.

“We set you up with the richest, smartest, most beautiful women in all of Japan, and you broke it off with all of them before the end of the second date—trust me, kiddo, I caught on pretty quick,” Sojiro chuckled.

“Then…wh-why all the omiai? _Years_ worth of matches—!”

“Hey, _I_ stopped setting you up after, what, three failed dates? But the family insisted. I tried to tell ‘em to lay off, that you were focused on your studies rather than the ladies, but they went behind my back. Drove that nakoudo to drink, I’ll bet,” Sojiro laughed. “…Still, I suspected you weren’t interested in women when a good-looking kid like you made it to college without a single notch in your belt, even with all those hang-arounds throwing themselves at you and your brother. But hell, I couldn’t say anything to the family, y’know? …I knew by then I’d done a shitty job of parenting you, but I could at least protect you from that.”

“You…you suspected…” Hanzo repeated, his shoulders dropping. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“Well what was I supposed to say? ‘Hey son, I think you’re gay, have a nice semester’?”

“Well, _no_ ,” Hanzo frowned, “But you could have _talked_ to me. We never talked,” he murmured.

“No, we didn’t,” Sojiro sighed. “We still don’t.”

“You’re obnoxious,” Hanzo muttered.

“Ha! No argument there!” Sojiro grinned, leaning back in his seat for a moment. “…Still,” he continued, “When you and your brother were little, I didn’t try to be your dad, I tried to be your oyabun. You were the heir to the family—you were supposed to go into the business, and I was supposed to be your boss. Then when your mother…” He trailed off, sighing. “When she died, I just got to be even more of a hardass with you. I didn’t know jack shit about being a father—I mean, my dad was my oyabun, too. But when Genji cried when he saw me, though…”

Hanzo had hardly ever seen Sojiro go quiet. Not like this. He remembered him being silent—stern. He remembered when his silence was a threat, remembered how the _kobun_ would start to tremble in place the longer Sojiro was silent, how whoever he was shaking down would beg and plead into the dead air… Hanzo had based much of his courtroom demeanor on that intimidating, commanding silence. But to go quiet like this? To just run out of gas?

“…I know I swung too far the other way, after that,” Sojiro sighed. “I didn’t try to be Genji’s dad, either—I just tried to be his best friend. I thought that was what you and your mother had…turns out it’s a shitty way to parent. I failed you both.”

“…Dad, are you dying?” Hanzo asked, raising a brow and leaning away slightly.

“No faster than anyone else, I guess,” Sojiro shrugged. “Well, maybe a little faster with all the fast cars and booze. Still, can’t I just want to clear the air?”

“I mean, sure,” Hanzo replied, quickly losing his grip on the conversation. This…is not at all what he had expected when he decided to bite the bullet and meet his father.

“Geez, you’re so suspicious. See what I meant about high-strung?”

‘You made me that way,’ he wanted to say, ‘I never asked to be an oyabun’s son,’ ‘A normal person would react the same way—’

“I’m sorry,” he said, the response almost automatic. It’s simply what you said to elders in the Shimada family no matter what. He hated it.

“You should get the soup in that little breadbowl thing they do here—it’s pretty good,” Sojiro recommended, drumming his fingers on the table as Hanzo finally picked up his menu.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come poke and prod at me on tumblr at [SadakoTetsuwan](https://sadakotetsuwan.tumblr.com/) (warning: NSFW) <3
> 
> Art? ART! (Beware possible spoilers in the art, of course <3)
> 
> [My first Cooking Cowboy fanart](https://sadakotetsuwan.tumblr.com/post/157460824900/so-miraculousdragoneffect-drew-me-this-adorable) by miraculousdragoneffect
> 
> [Lawyer Hanzo](http://moonmale.tumblr.com/post/159415776989/i-drew-laywer-hanzo-from-your-fanfic-which-i-love) by moonmale
> 
> [Too Fast. Too Serious.](https://bunbrigadeart.tumblr.com/post/159850882417/too-fast-too-serious-from-ch-12) by BunBrigade
> 
> [Jesse in his kitchen](https://miasmchanzocomics.tumblr.com/post/159920752100) by miasmchanzocomics
> 
> [Jesse and Hana scenes](https://chromatocloo.tumblr.com/post/160023441571/so-i-made-more-mchanzo-au-doods-to-raise-my-moral) by chromatocloo
> 
> [The Kiss](https://chromatocloo.tumblr.com/post/160125493511/kissing-is-my-personal-kryptonite-in-terms-of) by chromatocloo
> 
> [ Making cookie dough](http://outsidermonster.tumblr.com/post/160484202534/its-ogly-and-unreferenced-but-i-really-love) by outsidermonster
> 
> [More kissing](https://chromatocloo.tumblr.com/post/160814111386/moar-kissing-practice-%E1%B4%97-its-so-tough) by chromatocloo
> 
> [The Cooking Cowboy title card](https://sadakotetsuwan.tumblr.com/post/161154198375/mccree-senpai-the-cooking-cowboy-by) by mccree-senpai
> 
> [Who is DragonLord89?](http://dannidorina.tumblr.com/post/162118190300/this-is-what-it-looks-like-when-you-read-an) by dannidorina
> 
> [How to make matcha cake](https://queddadraw.tumblr.com/post/163065154210/so-like-im-slowly-being-killed-by) by queddadraw
> 
> [I love ya, honeybee](http://mordaceiart.tumblr.com/post/165416050155/i-just-finished-reading-the-cooking-cowboy-by) by mordaceiart
> 
> [Jesse in his kitchen](https://sadakotetsuwan.tumblr.com/post/166682866415/gunpowderandfletching-the-cooking-cowboy-is-such) by gunpowderandfletching
> 
> [Sojiro Shimada](https://chromatocloo.tumblr.com/post/169192378551/first-dood-of-the-year-%CA%95%D9%88-%E1%B4%A5-%CA%94%DB%B6-this-is-sojiro) by chromatocloo


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